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BOSTON. 


THE    APOSTLE   OF    BURMA 


A  MISSIONARY  EPIC 


IN   COMMEMORATION    OF   THE    CENTENNIAL   OF   THE    BIRTH   OF 


ADONIRAM    JUDSON 


BY 


WILLIAM   C.  RICHARDS 


BIRTHPLACE    OF   DR.  JUDSON,   MAIDEN,   MASS. 


BOSTON    1889 

LEE   AND    SHEPARD    PUBLISHERS 
NEW   YORK    C.   T.   DILLINGHAM 


Copyright,  1888, 
BY  LEE  AND  SHEPARD 


ERRATUM. 


On  page  143,  note  64,  last  line,  for  "  W.  T.  C.  Hanna,  of  Ballston, 
N.Y.,"  read  T.  A.  T.  Hanna,  of  Philadelphia,  Pa. 


trintfafrgittj 
JOHN  WILSON  AND  SON,  CAMBRIDGE 


TO 

EDWARD   JUDSON,    D.D. 


DEAR  friend,  to  thee,  thy  noble  father's  son, 

May  I,  with  fitness  unimpeachable, 

These  humble  lays  inscribe,  which  seek  to  tell 

What  he  in  Gautama's  great  realm  had  done, 

What  sought  to  do,  what  suffered,  and  what  won 

Of  guerdons,  such  as  dauntless  Paul  befell, 

Seeking  in  lesser  Asia  to  dispel 

Like  heathen  glooms  thy  great  sire  gazed  upon. 

Apostles  of  the  Gentiles  both,  their  names 
At  the  far  ends  of  nineteen  centuries  ring; 
And  thine  with  Timothy's  I ';«  fain  to  match, 
Since  thou  hadst  grace  (as  he  from  Paul)  to  catch 
His  zeal  and  spirit,  of  whose  worth  I  bring 
These  echoes  of  the  Christian  world'1*  acclaims. 


1761493 


PRE  FACE. 


A  POEM  should  not  need  a  preface,  albeit  its 
**•  occasion  may  demand  it.  It  is  quite  prob 
able  that  the  raison  d'etre  of  this  book  is  to  be 
found  less  in  itself  than  in  what  has  occasioned 
its  production  and  publication;  to  that,  there 
fore,  the  author  may  properly  refer  these  advance 
words.  Of  all  centennial  periods  which  have  chal 
lenged  public  attention  of  late,  there  has  been 
none  of  higher,  and  hardly  of  broader,  interest 
than  the  hundredth  anniversary  of  the  birth  of 
the  man  who  in  the  heart  of  one  vast  continent 
has  inaugurated  and  prosecuted  with  wonderful 
energy,  and  equally  wonderful  success,  a  work 
which  has  stirred  the  heart  of  another  continent 


vi  PREFACE. 

with  an  enthusiasm  of  interest  and  a  fervor  of 
participation  scarcely  paralleled  in  the  annals 
of  Christian  philanthropy. 

A  score  of  biographies,  and  multitudinous 
sketches  in  magazines  and  journals,  have  made 
the  name  of  JUDSON  a  household  word  through 
out  the  length  and  breadth  of  Christendom.  Its 
utterance  kindles  yet  a  light  in  the  eye  and  a 
glow  in  the  bosom  of  millions  of  sympathetic 
men  and  women,  old  and  young,  who  know,  in 
part  at  least,  what  he,  and  noble  women  sharing 
his  name,  did  —  and  endured  in  doing  —  to  con 
vert  the  great  empire  of  Burma  from  idolatry 
and  superstition  to  divine  worship  and  intelligent 
faith  in  God.  It  is  the  centenary  of  his  birth 
day  that  this  poem  commemorates.  This  is  the 
occasion  of  its  being,  and  of  its  being  made  a 
part  of  the  cordial  celebration  of  it.  It  was  in 
the  heart  of  its  author  to  lay  a  laurel  wreath, 
not  upon  his  grave,  for  that  was  hollowed  in  the 
depths  of  the  Indian  Ocean,  but  upon  his  en- 
shrinement  in  the  memory  and  devotion  of  all 
hearts  that  throb  to-day  with  gratitude  to  him 


PREFACE.  vii 

for  his  noble  self-sacrifice,  and  more  to  God,  who 
inspired  him  with  his  seraphic  zeal,  and  crowned 
his  toils  and  tortures  with  trophies,  the  number 
and  value  of  which  will  not  be  fully  known  until 
the  books  of  Time's  completed  annals  are  opened 
in  Eternity. 

To  link  his  achievements,  his  aspirations,  his 
tribulations,  and  his  triumphs  with  epic  verse,  if 
yet  a  daring  design,  has  been  attempted  with  an 
oppressive  sense  of  inadequacy  for  its  best  per 
formance;  and  hence  the  poet  ingenuously  casts 
his  work  behind  the  great  occasion  of  its  doing, 
and  seeks  rather  the  Divine  approval  of  its  pur 
pose  than  human  applause  for  its  measures  or 
manner. 

CHICAGO,  Oct.  i,  1888. 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

INVOCATION xv 

THE  THEME i 

CHRISTIAN  LETHARGY 3 

WILLIAM  CAREY 4 

THE  TWINNED  HEROES 5 

JUDSON'S  CHANGE  OF  VIEWS 6 

ITS  RESULTS 8 

THE  EAST  INDIA  COMPANY 9 

BUDDHISM 10 

AT  RANGOON 12 

A  DEFEATED  VOYAGE 13 

A  TRYING  ABSENCE 15 

A  CHRISTIAN  ZAYAT 17 

FIRST  BURMAN  BAPTISM 18 

QUIET  TOILS 19 

GATHERING  CLOUDS 20 

DEATH  AT  THE  THRONE 21 

JUDSON  AT  COURT 22 


X  CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

ENCOURAGEMENT    23 

MRS.  JUDSON  IN  AMERICA 25 

HER  RETURN  WITH  HELP 26 

A  HOME  IN  AVA 27 

A  ROYAL  PAGEANT 28 

MRS.  JUDSON'S  HEROISM 30 

AVA'S  DEATH-PRISON 31 

OUNG-PEN-LA 35 

SONGS  OF  SORROW 35 

RETRIBUTION - 42 

DELIVERANCE 43 

MALOUN 44 

AVA'S  REDEMFHON-FEE 45 

DEATH  DEFEATED 46 

CAPTURE  OF  PUGAN 48 

TERROR  AT  AVA 49 

FREEDOM 50 

THE  BRITISH  CAMP 51 

A  LITTLE  COMEDY 52 

HONORS  OF  WAR 53 

RETURN  TO  RANGOON 55 

ANOTHER  PROMISED  LAND 56 

His  CONSCIENTIOUSNESS 57 

DEATH  OF  MRS.  JUDSON 58 

NEW  HOME  AT  MAULMAIN 60 

A  MYSTIC  PASSION 62 

JUNGLE  SOLITUDE 63 

THE  AWAKENING 6s 


CONTENTS.  xi 

PAGE 

THE  KARENS 66 

KO-THAH-BYU 66 

JUNGLE  TOURS 67 

A  MARRIAGE-SONG 68 

OLD  PROME 70 

RETREAT 73 

RETROSPECTS 76 

SHADOWS 78 

THE  BURMAN  BIBLE 80 

THE  ISLE  OF  FRANCE 81 

A  BURMESE  LEXICON 83 

THE  SHADOW  OF  DEATH 84 

HEROIC  PURPOSE  FRUSTRATED 86 

A  GRAVE  AT  ST.  HELENA 87 

DR.  JUDSON  IN  AMERICA 88 

A  ROMANTIC  MARRIAGE 90 

RETURN  TO  BURMA 91 

RANGOON  TRIALS 94 

AGAIN  AT  MAULMAIN 96 

THE  SHINING  MARK 98 

His  LAST  VOYAGE 99 

DEATH  AND  BURIAL  AT  SEA 100 

His  WORK 101 

APOSTROPHIC 102 

NOTES 105 


THE   APOSTLE    OF    BURMA 


INVOCATION. 

T^TERNAL  Son  of  God,  for  Thy  high  worth, 
•*-**     In  my  unworthiness,  I  cry  to  Thee, 

My  help,  my  breath,  my  sours  resource  to  be, 
And  send  from  heaven  to  this  Thy  native  earth, 

A  spark  of  that  song-fire  which  filled  the  sky, 
Above  the  wondering  Bethlehem  shepherds1  fold, 
With  angel  raptures  for  its  joy  foretold,  — 

Thine  own  incomparable  birth-melody. 

In  that  divine  evangel  was  begun 

Heaven's  open  mission  to  our  ruined  race  ; 
Chief  Herald,  Thou,  of  that  redeeming  grace, 

Through  Earth's  remotest  cycles  thence  to  run. 

O  first  Apostle  of  God's  love  to  men, 

Whose  birth  through  rolling  centuries  we  sing, 
Grant  me  with  strength,  'neath  my  faint  trembling, 

Strains  ofjudea's  song  to  wake  again. 


xvi  INVOCATION. 

One  century  back  my  harp  is  fain  to  bring, 
It 's  feeble  strings  in  Thy  strength  only  strong, 
With  deep  intent  to  frame  a  fitting  song 

Of  one,  the  servant  of  Thyself,  his  King: 

Who  bore  Thy  gospel  to  the  distant  East, 
Beyond  the  shining  of  Thy  natal  star ; 
Of  heralds  o'f  Thy  Cross  to  lands  afar, 

To  us  the  greatest,  to  himself  the  least. 

Not  Burma's  sons  his  errand  to  receive 

Than  were  Thy  kindred  Thee  to  love  more  loath , 
The  spell  of  sin  hung  darkly  over  both, 

Gentile  and  Jew,  alike,  slow  to  believe. 

As  Thou  wast  light  to  him  from  heathen  skies, 
And  from  his  crosses  raised  him  to  his  crown, 
Thy  glory  shines  for  us  in  his  renown, 

And  to  Thy  glory  may  this  song  arise. 


THE   APOSTLE   OF   BURMA. 


SING  with  grief,  my  lays  are  less  than  fit 
The  greatness  of  my  theme  to  magnify ; 
With  gladness  more,  my  theme  is  yet  so  high, 

My  little  skill  shall  scarce  disparage  it. 


That  theme  —  the  life,  the  toils,  the  triumphs  too, 
Of  Burma's  first  Apostle  of  the  Cross, 
Our  century's  honor,  and'no  less  its  loss  — 

Looked  with  the  eye  of  sacred  seer  through. 

I  sing  of  JUDSON  l  —  from  his  ardent  youth, 
With  a  strong  zeal  for  Christian  service  fired, 
With  Christly  passion  for  the  work  inspired, 

To  lighten  heathen  gloom  with  heavenly  truth. 


THE  APOSTLE   OF  BURMA. 

With  gifts  to  envy,  both  of  form  and  mind, 
With  visions  fair  and  bright  life's  vistas  down 
He  chose  a  cross,  for  whom  a  civic  crown 

Or  cleric  chaplet  Time  was  sure  to  find. 

To  life-long  exile  from  his  native  land, 
In  perils  and  privations  vague  yet  sure, 
The  charm  that  lured  his  feet  had  need  been  pure, 

Beyond  a  sordid  sense  to  understand. 

Nor  went  he  forth  with  little  reck  of  life, 

Alone,  adventurous,  and  prodigal ; 

From  fact  or  fable  whence  shall  we  recall 
The  faultless  type  of  that  heroic  wife  — 

Whose  sweetness  and  whose  strength,  with  equal  power, 
Upbore  his  spirit  and  inspired  his  soul, 
What  waves  soe'er  of  woe  might  o'er  him  roll ; 

And  with  love's  sunshine  flushed  his  darkest  hour. 

On  her  lone  grave,  beneath  the  Hopia  tree,2 
From  tender  eyes  which  never  saw  her  face, 
Rain  tears  of  love,  and  heavy  with  grief's  grace, 

That  her  sweet  sainted  life  so  brief  should  be. 

Ah,  vyoman's  love,  in  cottage,  camp,  and  cell, 

Has  dauntless  smiled  at  want  and  pain  and  chains ; 
But  its  transcendent  record  yet  remains 

For  mission-annals  of  the  Cross  to  tell. 


THE  APOSTLE   OF  BURMA,  < 

HEN  in  his  youthful  breast  the  sacred  fire 
Of  mission  zeal  to  holy  flame  upsprung, 
Thick  mists  of  lethargy  the  Church  o'erhung, 

That  well   might   check   and   chill  his   strong 
desire. 

The  great  commission  of  the  risen  Christ, 
That  gave  all  nations  of  the  world  at  large, 
For  holy  teaching,  to  His  followers'  charge, 

When  on  the  Mount  they  met  in  farewell  tryst, 

Was  half  forgot,  or,  if  remembered  still, 

Had  lost  the  subtile  spell  with  which  it  stirred 
The  first  disciples  of  the  heavenly  Word, 

In  face  of  foes,  His  mandate  to  fulfil. 

The  triumphs  of  the  Cross  in  martyr  days, 
The  modern  Church  extolled  in  lofty  strain, 
But  doubted  if,  to  win  the  world  again, 

The  warfare  need  be  waged  in  martyr  ways. 

For  that  great  end  the  power  was  God's  alone, 

And  none  might  help,  as  none  could  stay,  His  hand : 
In  His  own  time  the  Cross,  in  every  land, 

For  His  own  name  and  glory,  should  have  sway. 

Oh,  fatal  spell  on  Christian  souls  to  fall 
Of  unbelief,  that  checks  the  tides  of  grace, 
Whose  flow  and  force,  alone,  shall  save  the  race, 

And  make  the  Christian's  Lord  the  Lord  of  all ! 


THE  APOSTLE   OF  BURMA. 

ERE  break  upon  this  cloud  of  chilling  gloom 
Glad  beams  of  brightness  from  the  English  sky 
A  century  gone,  the  shades  began  to  fly, 
And  make  for  Hope,  in  burdened  bosoms,  room. 

While  on  the  scroll  of  Hindoo  missions  gleam 

Some  names,  as  XAViER's,3  three  dull  centuries  back, 
And  that  of  SCHWARTZ,"*  far  down  the  lonely  track, 

Like  single  stars  on  Night's  dark  face  they  seem  ! 

Not  these  the  harbingers  of  India's  day, 

On  her  old  superstitions  yet  to  dawn ; 

To  that  diviner  light  our  eyes  are  drawn, 
When  CAREY  sailed  from  Albion's  cliffs  away.5 

Unknown,  unnoticed,  in  his  humble  sphere, 
His  sacred  boldness  bare  presumption  seemed  ; 
And,  held  of  some  good  men  as  one  who  dreamed, 

His  dream,  like  Jacob's,  shines  to  us  as  clear. 

In  the  pure  light  that  streams  o'er  India  now, 
Where  souls,  by  thousands,  from  dumb  idols  turn, 
And  suttee  altar-fires  no  longer  burn,6 

Nor  Ganges's  tides  o'er  hapless  infants  flow. 

How  read  we,  now,  the  reverend  critic's  gibe,  — 

"  If  but  a  tinker  grows  devout,  then  he 

For  the  far  East  departs  infallibly"? 
The  parson  's  but  the  voice  of  scoffing  tribe. 


THE  APOSTLE   OF  BURMA.  5 

Not  yet  have  lapsed  three  cycles  of  the  sun, 
Since  Sydney 7  thus  the  noble  CAREY  spurned ; 
Though  SOUTHEY  taught  —  as,  humbler,  he  had  learned  — 

The  work  by  "  those  low-bred  mechanics  "  done,8 

"  The  Bible  printed  in  the  Bengali, 

The  Testament  in  many  Hindoo  tongues  ;  " 
And  honor  more,  that  to  their  toil  belongs, 

Shall  swell  long  annals  of  Eternity. 

From  Kettering's 9  altar  England's  churches  caught 
The  glowing  flame  of  primal  Christian  days ; 
Then  apathy  awoke  to  Paul-like  ways, 

And  living  Faith  in  Love's  obedience  wrought. 

Across  the  sea  the  heavenly  unction  spread, 
And  holy  souls  through  our  new  Zion  stirred  ; 
The  great  Command,  so  long  unheeded  heard, 

Smote  unstopped  ears,  as  by  the  Master  said. 

SCANTY  score  of  years  divides  the  names 
Of  England's  herald  and  of  his  I  sing, 
In  the  great  work  to  which  alike  they  bring 
Their  separate  zeal,  yet  bright  with  kindred  flames. 

I  link  them  first,  that  both  to  India  gave 

Their  ardent  love,  and  their  unsullied  youth ; 
Strong  in  their  zeal  for  that  divinest  truth  — 

From  Heaven  revealed,  a  sin-doomed  race  to  save. 


THE  APOSTLE   OF  BURMA. 

They  in  their  single,  separate  toil  and  time, 
Clasp  yet  two  centuries  in  immortal  bond,  — 
One  to  its  close  drawn  near,  and  one  beyond, 

In  sacred  annals  to  their  end  sublime. 

And  yet,  again,  this  noble  twain  as  one, 

These  humble  lays  take  license  bold  to  blend, 
As  blent,  unflawed,  their  mission  in  its  end, 

Though  in  broad  variance  of  views  begun. 

CAREY  —  true  heir  of  John  the  Baptist,  —  took 
His  Lord's  command  without  tradition's  gloss, 
And  through  baptismal  waters  bore  his  cross, 

Grateful  no  scant  obedience  there  to  brook. 

In  childhood,  by  involuntary  rite, 

From  Faith's  full  homage  to  the  Master  kept, 
JUDSON,  in  manhood's  prime,  his  error  wept, 

And  Faith  in  Love's  obedience  blossomed  bright. 

On  the  rude  billows  of  the  ocean  tossed, 

His  long  default  tossed  more  his  serious  mind,10 
Which  sought  not  rest,  but  more  the  truth  to  find, 

And  finding,  he  would  buy  at  any  cost. 

That  cost,  from  his  own  records,  we  may  count 
In  sad  disruption  of  fraternal  ties, 
Dependent  loneliness  'neath  alien  skies, 

And  blighted  hopes  and  plans,  to  swell  the  amount. 


THE  APOSTLE   OF  BURMA. 

Yet  help  from  Heaven  sustained  his  fainting  heart, 
And  conscience  over  interest  victory  won ; 
High  honor  thus  to  principle  was  done, 

In  sacrifice  that  pierced  him  like  a  dart. 

But  angels  strengthened  him,  —  One  from  above, 
For  holy  deeds  to  Heaven's  own  sons  are  dear ; 
And  one  of  lowlier  birth-place  yet  was  near,  — 

His  earthly  angel,  his  in  wedded  love. 

Mark  the  fair  scene  a  Christian  zayat  shows 
In  Bengal's  capital.     This  exiled  pair 
Receive  the  rite  of  Christian  baptism  there, 

And  Faith's  pure  bud  in  Duty's  flow'ret  blows. 


OW,  face  to  face,  with  duty  and  with  doubt, 
Stood  the  young  hero  on  the  heathen  shore, 
The  sponsors. lost,  he  leaned  upon  before,11 

And  earthly  guidance,  trust  and  pledge  without. 

Yet  undismayed  his  strong,  courageous  soul ! 
Too  much  already  dared  and  done  to  fear 
His  Master's  hand  would  fail  of  succor  here ; 

He  gave  his  will  and  way  to  Heaven's  control. 

This  mute  but  mighty  challenge,  as  from  God, 
Found  quick  compliance  from  his  native  land, 
And  gathered  there  a  broad  and  zealous  band  12 

To  stay  his  feet  in  the  new  path  he  trod. 


8  THE  APOSTLE  OF  BURMA. 

Unwelcome  first,  that  path,  to  whom  he  left, 

Yet  none  might  doubt  his  heart  and  lips  were  true  ; 
Not  theirs,  but  his,  the  sacrifice  to  view ; 

Not  they,  but  he,  of  sympathies  bereft. 

Nor  soft  resentment  in  their  bosoms  dwelt,13 
When  soon  the  leading  hand  of  God  they  saw  ; 
They  owned  the  plan  divine,  without  a  flaw, 

And  gave  to  Heaven  the  grateful  praise  they  felt. 

To-day  there  beats  no  Christian  heart  but  thrills, 
With  holy  joy,  when  his  great  name  is  breathed ; 
With  sacred  fame  his  memory  is  enwreathed, 

And  Mission-History's  brightest  page  it  fills. 

The  hand  he  leaned  upon  was  strong  and  true  ; 

He  knew,  as  Paul  .had  known,  whom  he  believed ; 

And,  like  that  great  Apostle,  he  received, 
In  each  new  trial,  strength  and  wisdom  new. 

His  will  and  way  his  Master's  will  controlled, 
And  gave  him  Burma  for  his  "  goodly  land," 
Not  Joshua  clearer,  by  divine  command, 

Went  and  possessed  fair  Canaan's  coasts  of  old. 


HAT  famous  guild  of  commerce  and  of  might,14 
Which  swayed  the  Eastward  Indies  with  its  arm 
At  Christian  missions  felt,  or  feigned,  alarm, 
And  forced  Heaven's  messenger  of  peace  to  flight. 


THE  APOSTLE   OF  BURMA. 

By  foes  on  land  and  tempests  on  the  sea, 
Through  dangers  and  delays,  in  story  told, 
His  path  was  shaped,  and  for  one  end  controlled, 

That  he  should  Burma's  first  Apostle  be. 

Nor  this  alone  reveals  the  hand  divine, 

Seen  in  his  tortuous  course  to  that  dark  land  : 15 
Had  he  foregone,  of  his  great  chiefs  command, 

That  sacred  rite,  of  saving  faith  the  sign, 

What  modern  John  the  Baptist's  voice  had  rung 
To  wake  our  continent  from  slumber's  spell, 
And  stir  his  modern  followers  up  to  tell 

The  story  of  the  Cross  in  Burmese  tongue  ? 

What  rent  this  young  Apostle's  soul  with  pain, 
For  shattered  bonds  his  new  departure  left, 
Of  sweet  communion  with  his  own  bereft, 

And  drenched  his  pillow  with  regret's  sharp  rain, 

Yet  could  not  move  his  steadfast  soul  to  shun 
The  humbling  rite,  at  such  surrenders  priced, 
For  that  he  honored  less  his  creed  than  Christ, 

And  at  the  stake  would  do  as  he  had  done  : 

What  filled  two  lands  with  wonder  when  the  bruit 
Of  that  departure  crossed  the  Atlantic's  wave, 
Gave  Burma  to  a  baptized  church  to  save, 

And  planted  there  a  vine  for  gospel  fruit. 


10  THE  APOSTLE   OF  BURMA. 


WONDROUS  vine  with  tribulations  set, 
By  trembling  hands  in  unaccustomed  soil, 
To  human  sight  a  waste  of  time  and  toil, 
To  Heaven-born  Faith,  pledge  of  vast  vintage  yet. 

That  soil  had  nourished,  for  long  ages  past, 
The  mythic  creed  of  Buddha,  false  as  fair, 
Which  crowns  life's  virtues  with  a  dull  despair, 

Their  sad,  sole  fruitage,  —  endless  sleep  at  last.16 

A  system  sacred  in  its  dreams  alone, 

Hoary  with  age  and  bald  with  barrenness  ; 
Lacking  the  touch  the  grave's  great  gloom  to  bless, 

The  hand  divine,  to  roll  away  its  stone. 

Forbidding  crimes  with  precepts  pure,  but  vain, 
Dropping  no  balm  of  pardon  on  man's  sin ; 
The  sad  transgressor's  only  hope,  to  win 

In  Nigban's  shadowy  realm  surcease  of  pain. 

Unknown  the  tree  save  by  the  fruit  it  bears  : 
And  Buddha's  stately  stock  o'er  India  flings 
A  deadly  growth  of  sin's  revolting  things, 

And  shapes  most  hateful  that  our  nature  wears. 

In  vain  the  Palm-leaves 17  noble  doctrines  teach, 
And  Gautama's  pure  pattern  pleads  in  vain  ; 
They  fall  on  conscience  as  on  rocks  the  rain, 

No  living  soul  is  theirs  men's  souls  to  reach. 


THE  APOSTLE   OF  BURMA.  1 1 

Siddartha's  18  pictured  grace,  on  ARNOLD'S  page, 
By  broad  poetic  license,  he  may  call 
"  The  Light  of  Asia,"  but  it  shows  a  pall 

Beneath,  whose  blackness  deepens  age  on  age. 

Not  that  "  the  true  light "  shines,  that  every  man 
Which  cometh  in  the  world  may  see  and  live ; 
Lord  Buddha's  fabled  radiance  did  not  give 

One  ray  of  that,  through  all  his  reign  we  scan. 

A  sweet  philosophy,  a  trancing  dream, 

The  poet  wraps  our  stolen  senses  in ; 

But  waking,  lo  !  we  shudder  at  the  sin 
That  blackens  all  the  tide  of  Buddha's  stream. 

So,  from  the  bright  romance,  our  eyes  decline 
To  Paul's  dark  portrait  of  the  heathen  race,19 
Whose  foul  idolatries  and  crimes  efface 

All  fancied  beams  from  Asia's  sky  to  shine. 

Not  twenty  centuries  of  Siddartha's  light, 

Had  changed  the  frightful  picture  for  its  truth, 
When  JUDSON  on  God's  altar  laid  his  youth, 

With  humble  vow  to  rift  that  rayless  night. 

His  vow  in  Heaven's  great  register  was  writ, 
And  kept  on  earth  to  its  supreme  intent ; 
Heaven's  grace  and  power  and  wisdom  with  it  went, 

And  through  his  holy  zeal  accomplished  it. 


12  THE  APOSTLE   OF  BURMA. 

ROM  India  twice  expelled  by  its  great  guild, 
The  wanderer  found  at  length  a  resting-place, 
Less  of  his  choice  than  of  his  Master's  grace, 

That  His  divine  intent  should  be  fulfilled. 

Rangoon,  on  Irawaddy's  silvery  strand, 
And  chiefest  seaport  of  the  Burman  throne, 
Was  site  of  vantage  to  His  servant  shown,  — 

The  key  to  open  wide  his  promised  land  : 

A  land  beneath  a  fierce  despotic  rule, 

Where  vice  and  rapine  reigned  with  small  restraint ; 

A  tyrant's  grace  alone  to  soothe  complaint, 
And  superstition  its  supremest  school ; 

A  land  with  Nature's  bounties  well  endowed, 
And  with  such  charms  of  loveliness  arrayed 
That  Christian  art  a  Paradise  had  made, 

Which  heathen  priestcraft  wrapped  in  gloomy  shroud. 

Rangoon,  of  Burma's  cities  earliest  blest 

With  JUDSON'S  patient  prayers  and  toils  and  tears, 
Judged  by  the  fruits  of  five  slow  circling  years, 

Had  well  his  human  faith  alone  opprest. 

Through  all  their  stress  of  trial  and  defeat, 

His  heavenly  trust  was  steadfast  still  and  strong ; 
God's  promises  were  his  continual  song  ; 

They  made  the  roughness  smooth,  the  bitter  sweet. 


THE  APOSTLE   OF  BURMA.  13 

Five  years,  but  not  of  doubt,  or  scarce  delay, 
Of  daily  grapple  with  an  uncouth  speech, 
(And  seeking  him  who  taught  it  more  to  teach20) 

In  needful  preparation  sped  away. 

Till  then  the  young  Apostle  dared  not  preach 

In  the  strange  tongue  he  fain  would  make  his  own, 
Lest  he  should  give  the  Word  uncertain  tone, 

But  by  the  wayside  taught  in  simple  speech. 

Already,  helpers  on  the  field  had  come, 
To  share  his  labors  and  to  cheer  his  heart ; 
And  his  sweet  helpmate  bore  no  meagre  part, 

Her  feet  not  weary,  and  her  lips  not  dumb. 

Already,  too,  the  bitter  cup  of  grief 

Death's  hand  had  pressed  upon  their  shrinking  lips  ; 

Their  firstborn  joy  sunk  in  a  soon  eclipse, 
He  of  their  earthly  solaces  the  chief. 


ND  now  befell  in  Duty's  seeming  path, 
Of  their  sweet  wedded  love  a  trial  sore  ; 
It  may  have  been  a  gracious  sign  of  more 

That  on  their  mutual  joy  should  drop  its  scath. 

Brief  will  I  sing  of  what  for  them  was  long 

With  doubt  and  dread  and  soothless  anguish  rife, 
Scarce  less  to  him  than  to  his  tortured  wife,  — 

His  fruitless  voyage,  not  to  Chittagong. 


14  THE  APOSTLE   OF  BURMA. 

To  this  coast-border  of  the  Burmese  land 
He,  by  a  chance  of  seldom  ship,  would  go, 
That  there  he  might  the  state  and  fortunes  know 

Of  native  converts,  once  a  mission  band. 

If  he  could  find  them,  and  their  zeal  renew, 
He  might  the  scattered  handful  gather  soon, 
And  haply  find,  for  service  in  Rangoon, 

Some  native  helpers  to  their  new  faith  true. 

Ten  days  to  go,  and  with  the  ship  return  — 
With  three  months'  happy  toil  to  intervene, 
And  for  his  cause  and  Lord  rare  gains  between  — 

His  eager  bosom  made  with  ardor  burn. 

But  now  the  ship  another  harbor  sought, 

And  days  were  changed  to  weeks  upon  the  sea ; 
And  weeks  to  months  had  swelled,  or  ever  he 

Might  to  Rangoon  again  by  her  be  brought. 

He  landed  helpless,  as  for  weeks  he  sailed, 

His  strength  from  famine  and  from  fever  spent, 
Stale,  sodden  rice  his  loathly  nourishment, 

Till  life's  desire  had  in  his  bosom  failed. 

Scarce  roused  to  send  a  pleading  line  ashore 
To  any  English  heart  for  "  place  to  die," 
He  wept,  upon  his  knees,  when  help  came  nigh, 

And  friendly  arms  his  faltering  limbs  upbore. 


THE  APOSTLE   OF  BURMA.  15 

Like  angels'  faces,  seemed  to  him,  he  said, 

Those  of  the  Englishmen,  who  scarce  restrained  — 
When  they  his  close  and  desolate  cabin  gained  — 

Their  tears  of  pity  for  his  woe  displayed. 

A  soldier  high  in  rank,  but  higher  yet 

In  soul,  his  every  instant  need  supplied,  — 
Raiment  and  nurse,  and  a  sweet  home  beside, 

And  took  his  farewell  soon,  with  love's  regret. 

HREE  hundred  miles  of  journey  overland, 
In  a  palanquin  borne,  he  reached  Madras, 
Doubled  defeat  and  pain  to  meet,  alas  ! 
No  friendly  ship  to  reach  Rangoon  at  hand. 

Through  wasting  months  he  wore  the  weeks  away, 
His  eyes,  through  weakness,  for  his  studies  vain ; 
But  forced  inaction  only  tithed  the  pain 

That  wrung  his  tender  bosom  day  by  day. 

No  tidings  to,  or  from,  his  love  might  go, 
And  her  suspense  must  sink  into  despair. 
My  measures  move  to  mark  her  sorrow  where 

She  watched  for  him  in  vain,  and  watched  in  woe. 

Since  he  had  gone  upon  his  ill-starred  quest 
Dangers  had  stirred  the  Mission  to  alarm  ; 
A  hostile  viceroy  menaced  it  with  harm, 

And  terror  deepened  in  her  anxious  breast. 


1 6  THE  APOSTLE   OF  BURMA. 

Wide  through  the  city  rumors  ran  of  war, 

And  English  ships  sailed  with  the  outward  tide. 
The  dreaded  sickness  raged  on  every  side, 

And  rapine  braved  the  weak  restraints  of  law. 

Her  fellow-helpers  from  the  field  would  fly, 

While  yet  an  English  ship  might  lend  them  wings  ; 
Her  soul  was  rent  with  mortal  shudderings 

Of  doubt,  to  flee  with  them  or  bide  to  die. 

Her  faltering  will  they  plied  to  fear's  consent ; 
She  bore  her  treasures  with  her  to  the  ship, 
Breathed  bitter  farewells  with  a  pallid  lip, 

And  down  the  shining  river  tearful  went. 

For  seven  sad  months  she  had  no  word  from  him ; 

If  yet  lie  lived,  where  might  she  see  his  face  ? 

And  Love  and  Duty  answered,  "  In  the  place 
He  left  thee,  till  thine  eyes  in  death  are  dim." 

Then  rose  her  courage  till  her  soul  was  great 
With  innate  prophecy  of  Oung-pen-la ; 
Not  yet  the  tardy  ship  had  voyaged  far, 

And  the  brave  woman  for  her  lord  would  wait. 

Back  in  a  boat  she  went  the  second  day, 
And  as  her  soul  was  great,  great  her  reward  : 
At  duty's  post,  ere  long,  her  bosom's  lord 

She  welcomed,  and  dark  dangers  made  away. 


THE  APOSTLE   OF  BURMA.  1 7 

N  era  now  in  mission-work  we  mark  : 
A  Christian  zayat 21  stands,  complete  and  fair ; 
And  sole  amid  the  Buddhist  zayats  there, 

One  heavenly  lamp  to  shine  on  all  else  dark. 

Now  stated  worship  of  the  Christian's  Lord 
Began  beneath  the  blue  of  Burma's  sky  : 
Sermon  and  psalm  and  prayer,  their  melody 

A  strange  sweet  charm  spread  on  the  air  abroad. 

Ere  long  the  truth,  imbued  with  power  divine, 
Divinely  touched  one  heart  prepared  by  grace,  — 
First  trophy  of  the  Cross,  of  Burman  race, 

Upon  the  faithful  Teacher's  toils  to  shine. 

What  marvel  that  believing,  yet  it  seemed 

To  him  almost  too  much  to  be  believed  ; 

And  that  his  patient  faith  that  hour  received 
Reward  of  joy  in  measure  yet  undreamed? 

A  span  of  life,  scarce  threescore  years  and  ten, 
Has  lengthened  Time's  long  annals  of  the  past, 
Since  Burma's  rayless  night  was  pierced  at  last, 

And  Faith  received  its  first  fruition  then. 


OW  shall  I  sing  the  longed-for  happy  day 
When  Burma's  first  disciple  of  the  Cross 22 
Renounced  his  faith  in  Gautama  as  dross, 

And  put  on  Christ  the  Apostolic  way  ? 


1 8  THE  APOSTLE   OF  BURMA. 

That  hallowed  rite  beneath  a  Burman  sky  — 
A  unit  only,  now,  of  thousands  more  — 
Holds  me  entranced  the  happy  scene  before, 

With  joy  akin  to  theirs  who  lingered  nigh. 

Dark  on  the  mirror-surface  of  the  pond, 
A  shadow  lay  of  imaged  Gautama, 
Unconscious  how  that  hour,  anear  and  far, 

Through  all  Rangoon  and  regions  wide  beyond, 

Rang  out,  in  the  baptizer's  solemn  speech 
Of  the  high  Trinity  of  names  divine, 
The  Buddha's  doom,  of  sure  though  slow  decline, 

Far  as  that  holy  Shibboleth  should  reach. 

Three  holy  names  were  vibrant  on  the  air, 

First  stirred  that  morn  with  Christ's  baptismal  rite  ; 
And  happier  vision  never  blessed  the  sight 

Of  three  glad  witnesses,  triumphant  there. 

S  yet  this  band  of  earnest  toilers  moved 
Unhindered  in  their  work  of  love  and  faith, 
Amid  a  thousand  perils  free  from  scath, 

As  if  of  earth,  no  less  than  Heaven,  approved. 

Of  Heaven's  high  favor  in  their  hearts  they  bore 
Such  strong  assurance,  that  their  hearts  were  strong 
To  face  the  foes  they  knew  must  rise  ere  long, 

As  foes  had  met  Christ's  heralds  oft  before. 


THE  APOSTLE   OF  BURMA.  19 

No  dreams  of  earthly  ease  and  gain  beguiled 

Their  exile  and  their  lonely,  alien  lot ; 

At  sharp  privations  they  would  murmur  not, 
Nor  shrink  from  storms  of  wrath  and  malice  wild. 

They  watched  and  waited  till  the  storm  should  break, 
And  well  divined  why  they  had  known  no  harm ; 
While  yet  the  hostile  priests  felt  no  alarm 

For  Gautama,  and  his  proud  altars'  sake. 

This  humble  man  of  gentle  mien  and  ways, 

And  of  soft  speech,  though  oft  of  import  strange, 
With  book  and  leaf  could  work  no  baleful  change 

In  creeds  and  legends  of  the  ancient  days. 

No  secret  force  in  Buddha's  doctrines  wrought, 
On  their  strong  souls,  a  deep,  resistless  spell, 
That  they  should  fear  to  have  this  Teacher  tell 

The  creed  of  Christ,  to  them,  with  folly  fraught. 

So  to  the  zayat  flocked,  with  curious  quest, 
The  simple  and  the  wise,  in  time  and  turn ; 
Some  to  dispute,  and  some  strange  things  to  learn, — 

The  stranger  still,  in  their  own  tongue  expressed. 

People  and  priest  the  new  Apostle  heard, 

With  wonder  some,  and  some  his  words  believed ; 
No  more  a  harmless  gospel  so  received, 

Its  preaching  jealousy  and  hatred  stirred. 


20  THE  APOSTLE   OF  BURMA. 

HE  viceroy's  ear  was  moved,  by  hostile  hint 
Of  subtle  charm  in  JUDSON'S  gentle  speech, 
Sons  of  the  great  pagoda's  courts  to  reach, 

And  reason's  force  must  meet  of  power  the  dint. 

A  trifling  edict  from  vice-regal  throne 

Betrayed  the  secret  fear  the  ruler  felt ; 

And  all  the  city  from  the  cipher  spelt  • — 
"  Small  favor  to  the  strangers  must  be  shown." 

Then,  soon,  sad  silence  o'er  the  zayat  fell ; 
For  curious  feet  or  restless  minds,  no  more, 
With  sweet  persuasion,  stood  its  open  door, 

On  which  a  vague  alarm  had  cast  its  spell. 

A  faithful  few  the  fearful  threshold  crossed, 
The  new  disciples  at  their  Teacher's  feet, 
In  doubt,  yet  brave  whatever  ills  to  meet, 

Or  on  what  waves  of  trial  to  be  tossed. 

And  now  awoke  within  the  common  breast 
A  nameless  fear,  a  brooding  dream  of  ill ; 
With  sense  of  kindling  strife,  stout  hearts  stood  still, 

As  Nature  hales  her  tempests  in,  with  rest. 


E  ATH  smites  the  sceptre  from  the  monarch's  hand 
As  heedless  of  his  royal  rank  and  state, 
And  theirs,  no  less,  who  in  his  presence  wait, 

As  he  and  they  were  lowliest  in  the  land. 


THE  APOSTLE   OF  BURMA.  21 

Of  late,  his  touch  had  reft  the  Avan  throne 

Of  its  old  King,  who  feared  nor  God  nor  man ; 
So  Buddha's  altars  to  decadence  ran, 

And  scanty  reverence  to  their  priests  was  shown. 

Beneath  the  favor  of  the  royal  heir 

The  great  pagodas  with  new  splendor  shone, 
And  the  weird  rites  of  Gautama  took  on 

A  life  and  vigor  they  had  ceased  to  wear. 

Of  this  new  "  Lord  of  life  and  death  "  so  great, 
Who  aimed  the  nation's  landmarks  to  restore, 
The  baffled  Teacher  deemed  he  must  implore 

His  royal  leave,  Christ's  Word  to  propagate. 

Shall  we,  beholding  Paul  before  earth's  powers 
Uplift  his  Master's  Cross,  though  they  forbade, 
Chide  JUDSON — with  Paul's  charge  and  armor  clad  — 

That  he  restrained  his  zeal  in  these  dark  hours  ? 

Of  Jew  or  Gentile  lord,  no  favor  he, 

The  fearless  Tarsan,  for  his  mission  craved ; 

Their  haughty  leave  to  preach  the  Cross  he  waived, 

And  made  his  path,  as  was  his  gospel,  free  ! 

He  counselled  not  with  royal  flesh  and  blood, 
And  knew  no  Master  save  his  risen  Lord ; 
Caesar's  consent  had  Christ's  commission  flawed, 

Which  grander  grew  as  by  the  great  withstood. 


22  THE  APOSTLE   OF  BURMA. 

Ah  !  not  in  fear  the  new  Apostle  made 

Appeal  to  Burma's  Caesar  on  his  throne  ; 

He  thought  how  soon  his  gospel  might  be  known, 
His  path  unbarred,  the  people  not  afraid. 

:IVINER  wisdom  his  desire  denied, 

The  Burman  Church  must  grow  in  pain's  hard 

soil. 
Its  trophies  must  be  won  in  anguished  toil, 

And  scourges,  bonds,  and  dungeons  be  defied. 

So  grew  the  ancient  Church,  with  blood  for  rain, 
With  flame  for  sunshine,  and  with  sighs  for  air ; 
Its  sturdy  strength  and  stature  might  not  spare 

Of  crosses,  and  of  conflicts,  the  rough  gain. 

The  Cross,  caressed  by  royal  hands,  had  won 
O'er  Burman  soil  a  broad,  but  blighted,  sway ; 
Borne  first  along  a  steep  and  blood-stained  way, 

Its  power  is  still  of  storm  and  not  of  sun. 

In  anxious  hope,  but  not  in  craven  fear, 

The  Christian  hero  sought  the  heathen  king, 
If  haply,  in  the  Throne's  o'ershadowing, 

Fruit  of  his  toil  the  sooner  might  appear. 

AIN   hope  !  There  beamed  upon  "  the  golden 

face  "  ™ 

No  smile  of  sufferance  for  the  boon  he  sought ; 
His  sacred  work  must  hence  in  faith  be  wrought, 
By  the  sole  sanction  of  Almighty  grace. 


THE  APOSTLE   OF  BURMA.  23 

That  grace  was  mightier  than  imperial  will ; 

And  when,  from  absence  through  a  weary  moon, 
He  came  again,  in  question,  to  Rangoon, 

What  had  befallen  him  and  his  the  while, 

His  heart  was  lifted  high  in  joy's  rebound ; 

No  evil  hap  his  little  flock  had  met ; 

The  faith  and  zeal  of  all  were  ardent  yet, 
And  lo  !  new  germs  of  life  divine  he  found. 

The  wondrous  energy  of  gospel  leaven 
With  silent,  but  resistless,  power  subdued, 
In  heathen  souls,  the  mystic  spells  of  Buddh ; 

Shut  Nigban's  gates  and  opened  those  of  heaven. 

The  Teacher's  quiet  ways  and  words  of  peace 

Still  served  to  keep  the  waves  of  anger  down ;  • 

As  yet  they  bore  no  menace  to  the  crown, 

And  challenged  no  rude  mandate  they  should  cease. 

Their  mission  and  their  might  were  like  the  dew, 
Which,  silent  and  unseen,  the  hard  soil  breaks ; 
Till  germs  invisible  its  touch  awakes, 

To  bud  and  bloom  in  forms  of  beauty  new. 

Beneath  the  breath  and  dews  of  heavenly  grace, 
Suffusing  speech  and  smiles  of  lips  and  eyes, 
Unfolding  truths  as  dropping  from  the  skies, 

The  roots  of  faith  in  quick  souls  grew  apace. 


24  THE  APOSTLE   OF  BURMA. 

The  gathered  fruit  —  first  cluster  from  the  vine 
Not  vainly  set  in  Burma's  unwont  soil  — 
Was  priceless  guerdon  for  the  Teacher's  toil, 

And,  to  his  faith,  his  Lord's  approving  sign. 

The  zayat  now  a  perfect  temple  shone, 
Yet  with  an  inward,  unobtrusive  light, 
(Where  Nicodemus  still  might  come  by  night) 

With  all  its  churchly  rites  and  garments  on. 

Pastor  and  people,  shepherd  and  his  flock, 
Steadfast,  if  yet  not  safe  within  the  fold, 
Kept  each  sweet  ordinance  there,  as  they  of  old, 

And  nigh,  perhaps,  as  they,  to  bond  or  block. 

The  little  church,  among  its  new-born  souls, 

Was  nursing  some  who,  taught  of  God,  should  teach. 
Thus  early  won  the  Cross  from  native  speech, 

Rills  of  the  tide  that  far  o'er  India  rolls. 


O  fears  without,  of  rude  disturbing  foes 
And  flight  enforced,  when  —  whither  should  he 

fly?  — 
Add  fears  within  of  slow,  fell  malady, 

Which  pulses  dearer  than  his  own  disclose  ! 

That  she  should  fall  and  fade  from  his  fond  sight, 
She  who  had  been  the  day-star  of  his  life,  — 
His  brave,  inspiring,  hoping,  helping  wife,  — 

Would  leave  no  dawn  for  the  succeeding  night. 


THE  APOSTLE  OF  BURMA.  2$ 

If  he,  in  its  deep  gloom  alone,  could  know 
What  her  strong  soul  and  sweeter  self  had  been, 
His  toils  of  brain,  and  pen,  and  tongue  between, 

That  depth  of  knowledge  he  would  fain  forego, 

Or  wait,  —  if  but  God  willed,  till  it  should  strain 
The  broader  grasp  of  Heaven's  intelligence 
To  fathom  that,  which,  to  his  mortal  sense, 

Appeared  the  last,  impossible  excess  of  pain. 

Yet  grew  this  dread  foreboding  in  his  soul, 
And  rent  his  bosom  with  a  speechless  grief, 
Till,  in  a  lesser  woe  there  loomed  relief,  — 

The  hope  that  native  air  might  make  her  whole. 

Happy  the  counsel,  happy  his  consent, 

Though  she  must  cross  alone  the  sundering  seas ; 
Duty  and  not  delight,  toils  and  not  ease, 

Their  lives,  so  intertwined,  thus  rudely  rent. 

The  noble  woman,  strengthened  on  the  sea, 

Found  English  welcome  in  old  England's  heart ; 
And  gave  to  Christian  zeal  a  quickened  start, 

In  sweet  exchange  for  Christian  sympathy. 

When  to  her  native  shores  at  length  she  came, 
And  health's  fair  flush  suffused  her  pallid  cheek, 
To  see  that  kindling  glow  —  to  hear  her  speak  — 

Set  every  languid  Christian  soul  aflame  ! 


26  THE  APOSTLE   OF  BURMA. 

Then  manly  hearts  and  maiden  bosoms  swelled, 
With  holy  yearnings,  in  her  work  to  share ; 
And  threescore  years  can  dimly  yet  declare 

Burma's  great  gains  of  grace  unparalleled. 

OW  shall  my  song  the  sacred  joy  express 
Of  her  next  meeting  with  her  bosom's  lord, 
Their  rapture  by  no  frowning  shadow  flawed, 
And  mutual  hope  the  crown  of  fear's  hard  stress  ? 

For  she  had  brought  with  her,  to  stay  his  hands, 
More  laborers  for  the  whitening  harvest  field, 
Known  of  twinned  names  24  which  in  high  honor  yield 

To  none  that  star  the  night  of  heathen  lands. 

Great  work  the  tireless  Yudathan 25  had  wrought 
In  the  two  weary  years  he  toiled  alone,  — 
One  in  Rangoon,  and  one  anigh  the  throne, 

Where,  hopeful  still,  the  royal  ear  he  sought. 

His  noblest  task  was  in  seclusion  done, 

And  in  the  shades  of  hostile  vigilance  ; 

Denied  by  power  to  teach,  he  grasped  each  chance 
A  task  to  crown,  of  seven  long  years  begun. 

In  precious  fragments,  year  by  year,  his  skill 

Had  tuned  the  Testament  for  Burma's  tongue,  — 
A  great  work  ended,  and,  if  left  unsung, 

The  lack  my  measures  with  default  would  fill. 


THE  APOSTLE   OF  BURMA.  27 

HE  Teacher  at  the  "  golden  feet "  had  found 
Some  beams  of  brightness  from  the  "golden 

face," 
And  Ava  offered  him  for  dwelling-place 

A  royal  gift,  a  chosen  spot  of  ground. 

A  cautious  gift,  for  which  the  King  denied 
Its  worth  in  gold,  lest  held  of  him,  in  fee, 
Later,  it  might  a  foreign  freehold  be,  — 

A  thought  that  vexed  the  monarch's  fear  and  pride. 

As  in  some  Eastern  tale  —  for  speed,  't  would  seem  — 
"  In  two  brief  sennights  "  (as  its  angel  wrote, 
And  what  her  pen  records  the  bard  may  quote) 

"  A  home  was  ready  there,  as  in  a  dream."  a6 

A  dream  it  was  to  her  for  three  full  moons ; 

The  fourth  with  more  than  silver  filled  its  horn ; 

Beneath  its  rays  new  dole  for  her  was  born, 
And  danger  mingled  discord  with  joy's  tunes. 

A  cloud,  at  first  no  larger  than  one's  hand, 

Spread  slow  abroad  a  shadow  of  alarm  ; 

Yet  feared  the  Teacher  to  his  work  no  harm, 
While  strife's  sharp  tremors  shivered  through  the  land. 

In  blind  despite  of  Britain's  conquering  star, 
The  Avan  Emperor  dared  its  baleful  gleam  ; 
And  proud,  on  Irawaddy's  noble  stream, 

Bandoola's 27  troops  flung  forth  the  flag  of  war. 


28  THE  APOSTLE   OF  BURMA. 

Meanwhile  the  "golden  city,"  flushed  with  pride, 
To  its  new  palace  welcomed  back  the  King 28 
With  pomps  and  splendors,  were  I  fain  to  sing, 

My  graver  theme  the  glittering  scene  might  chide. 

All  Burma's  princes  —  priest  and  potentate  — 
Their  gorgeous  splendor  to  the  pageant  lent, 
Shining  with  rare  barbaric  ornament, 

And  jewelled  emblems  of  their  rank  and  state. 

In  gilded  houdahs,  borne  by  elephants, 

On  stately  steeds  caparisoned  in  gold, 

The  Empire  all  its  dazzling  glory  rolled, 
With  blare  of  instruments,  and  priestly  chants. 

N  wonder,  blent  with  hope,  in  his  sad  eyes, 
Gazed  Yiidathan,  and   she   who   shared   his 

thought 
Of  that  Almighty  Power  which  they  had  brought, 

To  win  this  mighty  Empire  for  the  skies. 

Bound  —  like  Egyptian  mummy  in  its  swathe  — 

For  ages  in  the  mythic  folds  of  Buddh, 

And  changing  into  evil  all  his  good, 
This  nation  made  a  fetter  of  its  faith. 

Only  the  hammer  of  the  Gospel's  grace 

Could  smite  that  fetter  from  the  Burman  soul ; 
O  faith  sublime  that  weapon  to  control, 

And  wake  to  endless  life  a  death-bound  race  ! 


THE  APOSTLE   OF  BURMA.  29 

With  that  in  hand,  and  closer  in  his  heart, 
The  Teacher  saw  the  royal  pageant  fade, 
Nor  of  the  crown  nor  threatening  cross  afraid, 

He  from  the  Throne  would  not  of  will  depart. 

How  soon  from  smiles  the  "  golden  face  "  should  shed 
Upon  his  way  or  work,  he  must  remove, 
How  soon  from  kingly  grace  and  wifely  love, 

No  rumor  whispered  that  his  footsteps  led  ! 

The  war  went  on,  and  mission  labors  too, 

And  one  great  Arm  in  both  divinely  wrought ; 
And  for  one  end,  if  not  to  finite  thought, 

Yet  so  beheld,  the  different  dramas  through. 

Disaster  to  the  boastful  Burman  arms, 

In  Rangoon's  fall,  to  Ava  sent  a  shock, 

As  of  a  stanch  ship  broken  on  a  rock, 
And  filled  the  capital  with  wild  alarms. 

Suspicion  on  the  English  strangers  fell, 

As  spies  and  hostile  to  the  Avan  throne ; 

And  false  conjectures  to  beliefs  soon  grown, 
The  pale-faced  teachers  shared  the  evil  spell. 


ERE  shrinks  my  muse  her  story  to  pursue, 
With  pains  and  persecutions  for  the  verse  ; 
Yet  should  she  shun  their  horrors  to  rehearse, 

Her  measures  to  their  aim  were  half  untrue. 


30  THE  APOSTLE   OF  BURMA. 

Burma's  Apostle,  like  the  heroic  Paul, 

Mockings,  imprisonments,  and  bonds  endured ; 
Through  wasting,  weary  months  to  pains  inured  — 

Whose  shadows  darkly  on  my  spirit  fall. 

Not  long,  or  willingly,  the  lines  shall  run 
That  trace,  of  twenty  clouded  moons,  the  tale  ; 
Where  thought  and  word  and  metaphor  must  fail, 

And  leave  the  melancholy  task  undone. 

It  were  an  Iliad,  to  write  with  tears, 

Had  not  the  ink  of  loving  woman's  pen 

Forbade  the  vain  attempt  to  tell  again, 
With  half  her  pathos,  all  its  woes  and  fears. 

TENDER,  brave,  and  noble  Christian  soul, 
Hadst  thou  been  less  than  Christian  in  that 

hour 
When  Yiidathan  was  snatched  by  heathen  power, 

From  thy  dear  arms  and  thy  strong  love's  control ; 

When  as  thou  knewest  —  and  yet  did  not  die  — 
The  "spotted  face  "29  of  Death's  stern  servitor 
Had  looked  in  his,  and  thy  strained  eyes  foresaw 

Not  tortures  only,  but  his  death-rack  nigh ; 

Then  hadst  thou  sunk  in  that  remediless  swoon, 
Mercy's  best  succor  in  thine  awful  stead, 
Oblivious  thence,  and  aye,  since  thou  wert  dead, 

Of  nameless  ills  for  both  to  follow  soon. 


THE  APOSTLE   OF  BURMA.  31 

I  liken  thee,  —  I  think  I  do  no  wrong,  — 
At  that  drear  dawn  of  every  possible  woe, 
To  Christ's  dear  mother,  when  she  saw  Him  go 

His  path  of  torture,  shame,  and  death  along ; 

She  did  not  know,  perhaps,  as  thou  and  we, 
How  His  poor  pinioned  arms  her  form  upbore, 
And  thine,  "through  deaths  oft"  (e'en  as  Paul's  be 
fore),80 

Till  thy  loved  lord  from  threatened  death  was  free. 

I  marvel  less  to  see  thee,  prompt  and  bold, 
At  the  death-prison's  door  its  captive  greet, 
Crawling  in  pain,  with  fivefold  fettered  feet, 

While  fiendish  guards  thy  nearer  steps  withhold. 

I  smile,  through  tears,  to  mark  thy  woman's  wit, 
That  triumphed  o'er  the  cruel  jailer's  rage, 
And,  granted  use  of  a  dead  lion's  cage, 

Into  a  prison-chamber  fashioned  it. 

The  royal  beast  had  shared  a  martyr's  fate, 
In  superstitious  fear,  starved  till  he  died, 
As  emblem  of  the  British  power  and  pride, 

That  threatened  peril  to  th'  imperial  state.81 


OT  seven  slow  months  in  Ava's  cells  of  death 
Fill  up  the  tale  of  woes  the  Teacher  bore  ; 
It  runs  its  horrors  through,  from  these  to  more, 

That  chill  the  listener's  blood  and  bar  his  breath. 


32  THE  APOSTLE   OF  BURMA. 

The  war  grew  fiercer  with  each  English  gain, 
And  all  the  victories  waved  the  meteor  flag ; 
Nor  seemed  the  advance  of  native  troops  to  lag, 

Though  everywhere  their  life-blood  flowed  like  rain. 

At  length  the  valorous-souled  Bandoola  fell ; 

He,  "  the  Invincible,"  had  bit  the  dust ; 

And  with  him  sunk,  in  fear,  the  royal  trust, 
As  sinks  the  sea  when  breaks  its  mightiest  swell ! 

As  hope  declined  within  the  Emperor's  breast, 
The  fiendish  passion  of  revenge  took  fire  ; 
And  the  pale  prisoner  felt  its  awful  ire, 

In  woes  expressed  the  most,  when  unexpressed. 

A  cruel,  traitorous  pakan-woon 32  had  gained, 
By  subtlety  and  fraud,  the  Emperor's  ear ; 
And  plying,  with  false  hopes,  his  greed  and  fear, 

A  fatal  power  for  common  woe  obtained. 

He  with  fresh-levied  legions  swelled  war's  tide, 
And  tithed  the  ticals  83  gathered  for  their  pay ; 
His  soldiers'  blood  stained  his  inglorious  way, 

And  he,  for  crimes,  upon  the  scaffold  died. 

The  woe  he  wrought  in  power  survived  his  doom ; 
From  Ava's  hells  to  Tophet,  hotter  far, 
The  scene  is  shifted  now  to  Oung-pen-la.84 

And  horror's  raven  wing  wears  blacker  gloom. 


THE  APOSTLE   OF  BURMA.  33 

HE  tender  wife,  whose  tireless  ministries, 
Though  granted  grudgingly  by  heartless  guard, 
Made  yet  his  chains  and  crosses  seem  less  hard, 

And  could  with  their  fond  love  his  woes  appease, 

Unrecking  she  of  sudden  change,  and  bent, 
With  woman's  gentleness  and  tact  and  grace, 
To  catch  a  ray  of  hope  from  some  swart  face, 

She  chanced  to  meet,  as  to  and  fro'she  went, 

Bearing  her  nursing  child  upon  her  breast, 
One  day  she  vainly  sought  him  at  the  door ; 
And  learning  she  might  see  his  face  no  more, 

She  sank  a  moment  with  alarms  oppressed. 

In  one  brief  hour  the  cruel  work  was  done,  — 

Her  husband  snatched  from  her  fond  sight  and  care, 
She  knew  not  whither,  and,  in  sheer  despair, 

She  sought  for  tidings  till  the  set  of  sun. 

Her  eager  hands  might  never  serve  him  more, 
No  more  his  food  their  cunning  care  provide  ; 
Her  woe  had  been  less  bitter  had  he  died, 

Whate'er  excess  of  ill  and  harm  she  bore  ! 

When  from  the  governor's  loath  lips  she  forced 
Tidings  that  set  her  aching  heart  aflame,  — 
And  told  in  some  compassion  mixed  with  shame,  — 

Hot,  helpful  torrents  down  her  flushed  face  coursed. 

3 


34  THE  APOSTLE  OF  BURMA. 

The  vengeful  powers  above  him  had  decreed 
The  pale-faced  men,  as  criminals,  to  death ; 
The  sword,  or  flame,  should  rob  them  of  their  breath, 

And  secrecy  should  veil  the  dreadful  deed. 

"To  Amarapoora — and  its  lamine-woon  "785 
From  a  leal  servant,  keeping  watch  anigh, 
Who  caught  the  whisper  of  their  doom  —  to  die  ! 

She  won  the  fearful  words  and  warning  soon. 

To  Amarapoora,  and  all  woes  in  store, 

All  fears  despite,  her  steadfast  soul  was  drawn ; 
And  down  the  Irawaddy,  with  the  morn, 

A  little  skiff  her  exiled  household  bore. 

Two  weary  leagues,  and  then  the  judge's  court ! 
And  that,  through  scorching  heat  and  stifling  dust, 
With  naught  to  buoy  her  burdened  soul  but  trust 

In  Heaven,  and  hope,  beneath,  of  false  report. 


H  !  pains  and  perils,  how  in  league  they  grow, 
Till  "  in  battalions  "  they  our  fears  surprise  ; 
Encountered,  we  may  think,  as  "  single  spies  "  - 

We  could  have  met  and  better  borne  them  so. 


The  lamine-woon  had  sent  the  prisoners  on, 
•    And,  with  some  milk  of  kindness  in  his  heart, 

Gave  the  grieved  household,  in  the  clumsy  cart, 
A  friendly  "  pass  "  to  follow  where  they  'd  gone. 


THE  APOSTLE  OF  BURMA.  35 

Then  sank  to  depths  profound  Hope's  radiant  star, 
That  erst  had  shone  and  long  defied  eclipse, 
As  the  true  heroine  caught  from  whispering  lips 

The  ne'er-to-be-forgotten  "  Oung-pen-la  "  ! 

A  roofless  prison,  falling  in  decay, 

And  the  pale  victims  sitting  chained  in  pairs, 

So  spent  with  pains  that  ranked  their  conscious  cares, 

It  seemed  their  breath  must  cease  before  the  day. 

"  Why  have  you  cornel"  broke  his  mute  agony, 
Deepening  the  terror  of  his  soul's  despair. 
No  home,  no  refuge,  and  no  safety  there 

Could  the  sad  sufferer  for  his  darlings  see. 


RANT  me,  oh  gentle  mistress  of  sad  song  ! 
Six  months  of  unexampled  woes  to  sing, 
In  measures  soft  but  brief.    Too  sharp  their  sting, 

Too  pitiful  their  strain,  to  hearken  long. 

Laus  Deo  !  first,  that  from  this  depth  of  woe 
A  happy  mount  of  mercy  we  may  climb, 
And  hear  the  bells  of  God  their  music  chime, 

Behind  and  forward  of  the  path  we  go. 

A  low,  ill-vented  room,  where  grain  was  kept, 
The  weary  mother  made  her  home  that  night ; 
And  there,  while  six  full  moons  fulfilled  their  flight, 

On  the  rough  heap  of  unhusked  rice  she  slept. 


36  THE  APOSTLE  OF  BURMA. 

She  woke  next  morn,  from  God's  own  gift  of  sleep, 
Strengthened  to  breast  again  a  tide  of  ill ; 
Her  heart  and  hands  with  added  cares  to  fill, 

And  this  sad  tale  in  new  distress  to  steep. 

Upon  your  dainty  couch,  in  garnished  rooms, 
Oh,  Christian  women  who,  by  thousands,  rest  — 
If  you  would  have,  like  hers,  your  slumbers  blest, 

Pity  and  weep  with  her  for  heathen  glooms. 

Of  two  small  Burman  girls  from  Ava  brought,  — 
Half  of  the  scanty  school  she  nourished  there, 
And  now  in  all  her  good  and  ill  to  share,  — 

One,  the  first  morn,  of  fell  disease  was  caught. 

To  shield  the  other  and  her  helpless  child, 
She  bravely  played  the  surgeon's  skilful  role, 
Till  o'er  the  hamlet  by  transmission  stole 36 

The  hateful  ill  in  sequence  sure  but  mild. 

The  jailer's  children  first  her  happy  art 

Bore  through   the  malady,  —  scarce  checked   their 
play,  - 

And  all  the  village  through  her  fame  made  way, 
So  skilfully  her  needle  played  its  part. 

On  her,  alas  !  the  evil  sorest  lay, 

Upon  the  babe  her  skill  was  vainly  spent ; 
And,  hand  in  hand,  sickness  and  sorrow  went, 

Within  her  cheerless  chamber  day  by  day. 


THE  APOSTLE   OF  BURMA.  37 

ET  more  without  than  that  rude  cell  within, 
On  her  strong  soul  there  pressed  a  cruel  grief; 
For  which  nor  art  nor  love  could  bring  relief, 

Yet  borne  in  faith  as  Heaven's  wise  discipline. 

Not  far  from  her  rough  bed  of  husk  and  fear, 
Beyond  the  prison  gates  her  husband  lay, 
In  tortures  she  might  charm,  though  not  away, 

Yet  scarce  to  bring  him  food  might  she  come  near. 

On  the  hard  earth,  than  keeper's  heart  less  hard, 
Nor  mat  nor  pillow  underneath  him  spread, 
With  swollen,  blistered  limbs  and  fevered  head, 

And  mangled,  bleeding  feet  by  fetters  marred ; 

From  his  pale,  wasted  lips,  as  thus  he  lay, 
She  heard  the  story  of  that  brutal  deed, 
Which  none  but  weep  in  wonder  as  they  read,  — 

How  tyrants  tore  him  from  her  sight  away. 

That  dreadful  march  from  Let-ma  yoon's 87  fell  gate, 
O'er  lengthening  miles  of  blazing  sun  and  sand, 
Whose  furnace-heat  stout  limbs  could  scarce  withstand, 

Was  well-nigh  doom  to  his  enfeebled  state. 

Some  gleams  of  Gautama's  sweet  charity 

Shot  their  rare  radiance  o'er  that  tramp  of  death, 
Which  stopped  for  one  poor  victim  his  last  breath, 

And  from  his  fiendish  drivers  set  him  free. 


38  THE  APOSTLE  OF  BURMA. 

When  from  the  mounted  lamine-woon,  in  vain, 
The  crippled  Teacher  humbly  sought  a  ride, 
A  Bengal  servant,  at  his  master's  side, 

Took  instant  pity  on  his  helpless  pain. 

His  twisted  turban  from  his  head  he  tore ; 
Quickly  in  twain  he  rent  the  flowing  cloth, 
And  to  his  master  and  the  Teacher  both, 

The  soothing  wrappers,  bowing  low,  he  bore. 

Thus  had  Siddartha  done  in  olden  days, 

When  Buddha's  grace  could  touch  the  haughty  soul, 
That  now  in  lowlier  bosom  found  control, 

And  from  the  poet's  heart  wins  this  poor  praise. 

About  his  blistered  feet  the  cool,  soft  cloth 
•  Soothed  the  sharp  torture  of  the  fiery  sands ; 
As,  leaning  on  a  friendly  arm  his  hands, 
He  dragged  his  feet,  God's  arm  around  them  both. 


HE  weary  days  to  weary  weeks  went  on, 

And  brought  slight  solace  to  the  brooding  woe ; 
If  one  tide  ebbed,  a  heavier  one  would  flow, 

Till  hope  of  help  in  all  but  Heaven  was  gone. 

,  The  Teacher's  eyes  gained  something  back  of  light, 
As  healing  to  his  wasted  limbs  lent  strength, 
So  he  could  pace  the  prison  bounds  at  length, 
And  better  bear  his  cruel  couch  at  night. 


THE  APOSTLE   OF  BURMA:  39 

The  tireless  angel  who,  with  feet  for  wings, 
About  his  prison  hovered  with  her  smiles, 
Won,  here  and  there,  some  heart  with  her  weird  wiles, 

As  goodness  to  itself  still  goodness  brings. 

With  dainty  bribes  and  blessed  acts,  she  bought 

What  little  kindnesses  about  her  grew ; 

She  was  so  brave,  so  gentle,  and  so  true, 
The  vileness  round  her  gleams  of  beauty  caught. 

But  her  incessant  toils  and  watchings  wore 

Less  her  high  spirit  than  her  body  frail ; 

How  could  that  in  her  lodging  else  than  fail, 
Where  sleep  came  rarely,  and  fit  food  still  more  ? 

The  desolate,  drear  hamlet  met  no  need 

Of  food  or  medicine,  or  for  love  or  gold ; 

Herself,  her  child,  must  sleep  beneath  the  mould, 
If  help  for  both  came  not  from  Heaven  with  speed. 

With  dauntless  faith  in  God,  she  charged  her  soul 

To  hold  her  fainting  body  to  her  will, 

Her  daring  aim  and  purpose  to  fulfil, 
And  Ava,  and  her  dwelling  there,  her  goal. 


O  purpose  is  with  resolute  souls  to  do  ; 

Her  very  weakness  seemed  to  make  her  strong ; 

A  trinity  of  loves  she  bore  along, 
A  Trinity,  more  lofty,  bore  her  through. 


40  THE  APOSTLE   OF  BURMA. 

At  Ava,  in  her  once  dear  mission-home, 
Her  malady  made  pause  enough  for  hope ; 
Her  pulse  played  even  with  Desire's  broad  scope, 

And  Fear's  dark  sea  was  flecked  with  sparkling  foam. 

Delusive  hope  !     Like  a  sleep-dream  it  passed, 
And  to  the  wasting  illness  gave  new  force ; 
Swift,  to  one  only  end,  appeared  its  course, 

And  each  to-morrow  seemed  for  her  the  last. 

One  passion  now  within  her  bosom  glowed, — 
To  die,  where  late  to  live,  was  worse  than  death ; 
There,  there  alone,  she  fain  would  yield  her  breath, 

So  strong  to  Oung-pen-la  love's  current  flowed. 

With  fevered  strength  she  gained  her  medicine-chest,88 
And  friendly  drugs  her  faltering  steps  upbore 
To  the  great  river's  glistening,  sun-scorched  shore, 

Where  on  a  lingering  boat  she  swooned  in  rest 

But  still  the  clumsy  cart-wheel  blocks 89  must  creep 
A  league  and  more  through  tortures  slow  but  keen ; 
Across  which  sea  of  fire  had  she  not  been, 

Their  dirge-like  groans  had  wrapped  her  in  Death's  sleep. 

Honor  we  pay  —  and  more  than  praise  is  due  — 
To  serving-men  whose  souls  had  suited  kings  ; 
If  shame  on  Burmese  chiefs  my  story  flings, 

A  humble  Bengalee  it  crowns  anew. 


THE  APOSTLE   OF  BURMA.  41 

A  faithful  fellow  he,  guardian  and  cook, 40 

Whose  human  heart  rode  proudly  o'er  his  caste, 
Met  her  with  tears,  and,  with  alarm  aghast, 

Bore  her  frail  form  to  its  wont  dreary  nook. 

For  twenty  moons,  through  all  their  wasting  woes, 
No  task  too  mean,  his  hands  and  spirit  irked ; 
Zealous  in  all,  he  waited,  watched,  and  worked, 

Nor  saw  reward,  nor  sought  it,  to  their  close. 

song  grows  heavy  with  these  doubled  ills, 
Which  lighten  not  as  burdened  weeks  go  by ; 
But  thicken,  as  swart  clouds  that  choke  the  sky, 
Till  silent  terror  all  the  landscape  fills. 

Two"  months  within  that  stifling  chamber  lay 
The  mother's  form  upon  the  paddy  heap ; 41 
Pain,  weakness,  and  foul  air  forbade  her  sleep, 

And  made  the  night  more  hideous  than  the  day. 

No  bread,  no  drop  of  milk,  no  dainty  bit, 
No  food  but  rice  might  the  sad  sufferer  buy, 
Though  for  the  famished  babe  the  hour  seemed  nigh, 

When  Death's  cold  arms  from  hers  would  ravish  it. 

Sometimes  with  bribes,  —  and   these,   at  times,   were 
vain  !  — 

The  gates  would  give  their  prisoner  leave  to  pass  ; 

And  then,  with  fetters  only  loosed,  alas  ! 
He  dragged  his  feet  and  clanked  the  clinging  chain. 


42  THE  APOSTLE  OF  BURMA. 

Mark  now  the  quest  on  which  his  steps  are  bent. 
His  little  famished  child  he  bears  around, 
If,  haply,  here  or  there,  the  boon  be  found 

From  some  soft  breast  a  mother's  nourishment. 

Thanks  unto  God  !  from  Hindoo  bosoms  flowed 
This  milk  of  human  kindness  many  days  ; 
And  for  sweet  strains,  to  mix  with  sombre  lays, 

With  joy  I  sing  this  tender  episode. 

TERNAL  Justice  sits  on  Heaven's  high  seat, 
And  great  doom-days  to  human  knowledge 

come, 

When  the  black  bread  of  crime,  to  its  last  crumb, 
The  cruel  wretch  that  moulded  it  must  eat. 

The  pakan-woon,  whose  malice  wrought  the  woe 
Of  the  white  victims  sent  to  Oung-pen-la, 
Had  stretched  his  foul  and  fiendish  scheme  so  far 

That  they  to  Buddh's  first  Hell  42  by  fire  should  go. 

While  yet  this  terror  o'er  their  spirits  hung, 

Glad  tidings  reached  them  of  the  traitor's  death  : 
The  sword  of  Justice  flashed  from  out  its  sheath, 

And  to  the  brazen  Hell  his  soul  was  flung. 

HEN  gloom  and  storm  o'er  land  and  sky  have 

lowered, 

Until  with  shadow  all  the  earth  is  sad, 
One  burst  of  sunshine  makes  the  bosom  glad, 

And  songs  of  joy  from  gleeful  throats  are  showered. 


THE  APOSTLE   OF  BURMA.  43 

Not  vocal  songs,  but  anthems  of  the  heart, 
In  deep  thanksgiving  rose  to  heaven  above, 
When  over  Oung-pen-la  God's  bow  of  love 

Gave  tokens  that  its  clouds  of  woe  would  part. 

Oh  blessed  sign,  that  made  the  captive's  chain 
Seem  light  as  if  a  sudden  it  was  broke  ! 
Her  tender  voice  the  blessed  tidings  spoke, 

And  rapture  woke  as  from  a  dream  of  pain. 

Deliverance  came,  and  Yiidathan  was  free  ! 
But,  after  joy's  sweet  rain  of  tears,  returned 
The  clouds ;  for  in  the  jailer's  bosom  burned 

The  hateful  greed  for  oft-extorted  fee. 

"  The  one  in  chains  must  go,  but  she  must  stay ; 
The  mandate  made  no  mention  of  her  name." 
With  bribes  of  stores,  which  late  from  Ava  came, 

This  wicked  obstacle  was  swept  away. 

To  Ava  then,  but  under  guard-ship  yet, 

The  grateful  group  from  the  foul  precinct  went ; 
She  to  her  dwelling,  but  the  Teacher  sent 

Once  more  to  prison,  where  at  morn  they  met. 

He  to  the  Burmese  camp  in  bonds  must  go ; 

His  skill  in  tongues  must  serve  the  frightened  King. 

Embassage  now  for  treaty  was  the  thing, 
And  he  his  fealty  to  the  Throne  must  show. 


44  THE  APOSTLE   OF  BURMA. 

REAR  was  his  voyage  to  the  tented  field, 

Cramped  in  an  open  boat  'neath  chilling  dews, 
With  mildewed  rice  his  only  food  to  use, 

And  day  and  night  the  fickle  sky  his  shield  ! 

Scarce  better  than  his  prison-lot  his  state, 

And  heavier  there  the  fever  on  him  fell ; 

No  gentle  hand  to  soothe  its  fiery  spell, 
No  smile  to  greet  him  at  Maloun's  war-gate.43 

With  scarce  the  sense  or  power  the  pen  to  hold, 
They  forced  upon  him  the  translator's  task ; 
And  mocked  his  misery,  as  a  wilful  mask, 

Till  a  white  swoon  his  true  condition  told. 

Then  turned  their  taunts  and  tortures  into  care, 
Lest  Death  should  rap  his  service  from  their  aid ; 
In  treaties  with  their  conquerors  to  be  made, 

His  skilful  tongue  and  pen  they  ill  might  spare. 

From  stifling  bamboo-hut  on  the  scorched  beach, 
They  bore  him,  in  his  swoon,  where  he  might  live ; 
Kind  Nature  proved  his  true  restorative, 

And  brought  him  back  to  feeling  and  to  speech. 

His  task  was  hard,  his  skill  beyond  a  doubt, 

But  doubted  yet  his  fealty  and  truth ; 

Ruthless  to  him,  how  dare  they  trust  his  ruth, 
In  the  grave  issues  they  conferred  about? 


THE  APOSTLE   OF  BURMA.  45 

His  counsels,  wise  and  just,  grew  soon  of  weight 
With  the  rude  spirits  whelmed  in  hopeless  war, 
With  foes  of  might  and  chivalry  and  law, 

In  strife  invincible,  as  in  honor  great. 


SUDDEN  frenzy  now  the  camp  controlled, 
And  all  grew  white  with  fear  as  waves  with  foam ; 
The  British  arms  were  marching  on  from  Prome, 
The  "golden  city  "  naught  could  save  but  gold. 

Five  million  rupees 44  —  the  redemption  fee  — 
The  barbarous  bosom  of  the  King  appalled ; 
The  "  strangers  "  to  the  Throne  in  haste  were  called, 

And  Yiidathan  must  lead  in  embassy. 

But  yesterday,  unsignalled  why  or  when, 
He  from  the  camp  to  Ava  had  been  sent ; 
.  And  there,  by  slender  chance,  fresh  prisonment 
Escaped,  and  that  at  Oung-pen-la  again. 

The  governor  of  the  city's  northward  gate, 
With  friendly  zeal,  the  highest  court  besought, 
Himself  as  surety  gave,  and  home  he  brought 

His  captive  guest,  the  King's  high  will  to  wait. 

It  was  for  Burma,  as  for  JUDSON,  well 

That  slender  chance  was  in  the  hand  of  God ; 
Man's  rude  mistake  was  His  directing  rod ; 

What  we  count  trifles  His  great  ends  foretell. 


46  THE  APOSTLE   OF.  BURMA. 

The  Teacher,  keeping  his  sole  work  in  view, 
And  well  forecasting  what  the  end  must  be, 
Shunned,  with  avail,  the  hopeless  embassy, 

And  for  another  stood  his  hostage  true. 


GAIN  the  finger  of  the  Lord  behold  ! 

For  weeks  that  only  face  he  had  not  seen, 
Which  in  his  woes  his  light  from  heaven  had 
been, 

Nor  of  her  weal  or  woe  had  he  been  told. 

The  moon's  white  rays  fell  softly  on  her  gate, 
As  he  was  hurried,  pleading  vainly,  past, 
Nor  tears,  nor  threats,  nor  bribes,  availed  at  last, 

One  golden  moment  for  love's  sake  to  wait. 

Could  he  have  glanced  within  that  dear  abode, 
His  heart  had  falsely  played  his  faltering  feet, 
To  see  what  there  his  shrinking  eyes  must  meet,  — 

A  sight  denied,  to  God's  sweet  mercy  owed. 

Spared  from  the  embassage,  he  like  a  bird, 
With  wounded  wing  for  wonted  flight  half  free, 
His  mangled  feet  let  not,  at  speed,  to  flee, 

He  went,  'twixt  hope  and  fear,  from  vague  hint  heard. 

His  door  stood  wide,  as  where  might  welcome  be, 
Yet  no  sweet  voice  gave  greeting  to  his  ear ; 
A  Hindoo  nurse  and  a  wan  child,  to  fear 

O'er  hope  within  his  breast  gave  victory. 


THE  APOSTLE   OF  BURMA.  47 

Beyond,  oh,  fearful  veil  to  lift !  she  lay 
As  one  not  sleeping,  but  from  terror  dead ; 
Close-shaven  locks  and  ghastly  features  said, 

"  Sickness  and  abject  want  have  had  their  way." 

Love,  that  despair  and  death  might  vivify, 

A  moment  bowed  above  the  prone,  white  form ; 
A  sighing  breath,  a  tear  with  that  love  warm, 

Fell  on  the  wasted  face,  and  Death  passed  by  ! 

Oh,  miracle  of  love,  by  Heaven  endowed, 

Which  conquered  Death  at  moment  so  supreme  ! 
She  woke,  as  one  who  starts  from  horrid  dream, 

Or  day-star  bursts  from  foldings  of  black  cloud. 


AME,  with  the  envoys,  slight  encouragement, 
In  easier  terms  the  hundred  lacs 45  to  pay,  — 
A  fourth  part,  promptly,  at  twelve  days'  delay, 

And,  with  the  sum,  all  English  captives  sent. 

The  British  general  strict  requirement  made 

For  "  the  good  Teacher,  with  his  wife  and  child ;  " 
At  which  the  King,  with  speech  and  manner  mild, 

His  selfish  wish  and  crafty  mind  betrayed : 

"  They  are  not  English  people  ;  they  are  mine ; 
I  will  not  let  them  with  the  English  go  :  " 
Vain  speech  with  which  to  meet  victorious  foe, 

And  vainer  still  to  thwart  the  Will  divine. 


48  THE  APOSTLE   OF  BURMA. 

A  bold  adventurer,  of  vague  renown, 

Had  to  renewed  defiance  stirred  the  King : 
"  If  he  to  Pugan  might  an  army  bring, 

He  'd  make  impregnable  that  ancient  town. 

"  There  would  he  meet,  and  there  the  foe  destroy ; " 
.His  gods  had  made  him  mad  for  his  own  doom, 
And  madness  in  the  King's  vexed  breast  found  room, 

Such  reckless  means  and  leader  to  employ. 

With  flaunting  banners  went  the  legions  out, 

And  the  old  city  swiftly  fortified ; 

Scarce  slower  smote  the  English  arms  her  pride, 
And  put  the  "  golden  city's  "  last  resource  to  rout. 

Before  the  King  the  braggart  stood  again, 
Asking  new  troops  the  battle  yet  to  wage  ; 
The  angry  monarch,  hot  with  shame  and  rage, 

Consigned  him  to  the  headsman  to  be  slain. 

The  crafty  King,  in  hope  his  vengeance  might 
Be  veiled  from  English  eyes,  made  grave  pretence 
That  he  was  slain  for  disobedience 

To  his  command,  "  the  English  not  to  fight." 


EANWHILE  the  patient  victors  slowly  drew, 
But  steadfast  still,  the  "  golden  city  "  nigher ; 
The  King's  delay  provoked  the  leader's  ire, 

Though  peace,  and  not  assault,  he  kept  in  view. 


THE  APOSTLE   OF  BURMA.  49 

Yet  new  ambassadors  in  hope  were  sent, 
To  soften,  still,  surrender's  bitter  price ; 
Their  answer  was  dismission  in  a  trice, 

And  warning  notes  of  peril  imminent. 

Alarm,  to  terror,  through  the  city  ran  ; 

Palace  and  people  shared  alike  the  spell ; 

With  one  consent  and  haste  incredible, 
They  brought  their  treasures  to  the  melting-pan. 

Vessels  and  gauds  of  silver  and  of  gold, 

To  sate  the  fervid  flame,  flowed  fast  and  free ; 
The  King  and  Queen  the  work  watched  eagerly, 

And  soon,  in  weight,  the  needed  sum  was  told. 

The  native  mind,  by  its  own  morals  bound, 
Feared,  and  forbore,  in  English  truth  to  trust ; 
The  King  and  Court,  themselves  of  mould  unjust, 

Knew  not  where  right  and  honor  might  be  found. 

They  would  not  send,  at  once,  the  gathered  tax : 
Fearing  lest  that  and  many  captives  gone, 
The  foe  would  move  the  royal  city  on  — 

They  sent,  of  all  the  treasure,  six  sole  lacs. 

The  "  sacred  Teacher  "  they  constrained  to  go, 
To  help  their  plea,  though  he  declared  it  vain ; 
The  ill-judged  gold  to  Ava  came  again, 

With  large  forbearance  from  the  advancing  foe.    . 
4 


50  THE  APOSTLE  OF  BURMA. 

11  If  but  the  full  instalment  of  the  sum 

Reached  them,  ere  they  the  city's  outposts  reached, 
Their  word  of  honor  should  be  unimpeached, 

Nor  to  the  '  golden  city '  harm  should  come." 

Persuasive  words,  by  conquering  banners  backed, 
Dark  prison-doors  upon  their  hinges  turned ; 
To  Oung-pen-la  the  fire  of  freedom  burned, 

The  terms  of  peace  nor  souls  nor  rupees  lacked. 


|AUS   DEO,  yet !     On  Irawaddy's  breast, 
A  mild  March  moon  its  silver  splendor  poured 
Upon  a  fleet  of  golden  war-boats  moored 

About  a  shallop  noted  from  the  rest. 

Upon  its  deck  stood  Yiidathan  erect, 
His  happy  eyes  alternate,  lift  and  low, 
Now  to  glad  heaven,  now,  with  its  light,  to  go  — 

Where  stood  his  angel  in  earth's  garments  decked. 

Free  and  united  !     They,  for  moons  a  score, 

Had  known  no  day  that  was  not  dark  with  dread ; 
Now,  with  the  terror  from  their  bosoms  fled, 

Which  quivered  like  gay  ripples  on  the  shore. 

Above  them  England's  royal  banner  waved  ; 
Each  fold  and  color  of  the  symbolled  cloth 
Bore  pledges,  sweet  and  eloquent  to  both, 

That  they  from  danger,  as  from  death,  were  saved. 


THE  APOSTLE   OF  BURMA.  51 

The  rapture  of  that  strange,  moonlighted  sail 
Was  to  their  senses  type  of  heaven's  own  bliss ; 
Time  had  no  equal  antepast  of  this, 

Till  mortal  in  immortal  breath  should  fail. 


jjHE  British  camp  !    In  the  sweet  morning  light 
What  leaden  shadows  from  their  hearts  were 

gone; 
What  mystic  radiance  from  the  white  tents 

shone, 
River  and  earth  and  sky  changed  in  a  night ! 

See  now,  from  off  the  flag-environed  shore 
In  bannered  boat  a  stately  escort  comes, 
And  o'er  the  glancing  waves,  the  roll  of  drums, 

To  greet  the  happy  captives,  free  once  more  ! 

What  honors  might  be  paid  to  rank  and  state 
By  English  arms,  in  Victory's  jubilant  hour, 
Fell  on  their  humble  heads  in  affluent  shower, 

Themselves,  in  goodness  and  in  suffering  great. 

Fast  flew  a  fortnight  by  on  balmy  wings,  — 
Sweet  days  of  honor,  courtesy,  and  rest,  — 
To  swell  with  thankful  joys  the  throbbing  breast 

Tortured  so  late  with  tyranny's  sharp  stings. 

One  day  a  splendid  banquet  was  prepared, 
In  honor  of  the  royal  treaty  made, 
While  yet  the  Burman  deputies  delayed. 

Nor  glittering  pomp  nor  pageantry  was  spared. 


52  THE  APOSTLE   OF  BURMA. 

The  camp  with  gold  and  crimson  flags  was  hung ; 

A  hundred  cannon  thundered  on  the  air; 

And  mirth  and  music  rang  out  everywhere, 
While  songs  of  victory  and  peace  were  sung. 

When  the  gay  feasters  to  the  banquet  went, 
They  marched  in  couples  to  the  music's  tone, 
But  the  commander,  at  the  front,  alone, 

Till  all  were  halted  at  a  curtained  tent. 

There,  while  the  Burmans  looked  with  vague  surprise, 
The  general  stepped  the  snowy  tent  before, 
And  from  its  light  veranda,  through  the  door, 

Vanished  a  moment  from  their  curious  eyes. 

Emerging  then,  a  lady  on  his  arm, 

He  seated  her  beside  him  at  the  head  ; 
While  dusky  faces  there  turned  pale,  or  red, 

With  conscious  shame  or  deathly  white  alarm. 


LITTLE  comedy  enacted  there 
Came  nigh  to  marring  English  courtesy  : 
"  Old  friends  of  yours  I  fancy  these  must  be," 

Said  the  gay  host,  aloud,  to  lady  fair. 


Her  smile  from  further  speech  her  lips  excused ; 

But  he,  "  You  must  have  treated  that  one  ill ; 

See  how  his  forked  beard  is  quivering  still." 
Then  she,  —  half  pitiful  and  half  amused,  — 


THE  APOSTLE   OF  BURMA.  53 

"  His  memory  troubles  him,  perhaps.     Too  well 
The  Burman  knows  me,  and  may  fitly  fear 
111  to  himself,  that  you  protect  me  here ; 

In  English  I  a  little  tale  may  tell : 

"  When  Yiidathan  in  Avan  prison  lay, 
Five  cruel  fetters  on  his  ankles  fast, 
I,  fearing  that  each  day  would  prove  his  last, 

To  that  man's  dwelling  made  my  weary  way. 

"  A  weary  time  —  from  morn  till  noon  —  denied, 
He  heard  at  length  my  prayer,  and  that  forbade ; 
A  silken  sunshade  in  my  hand  I  had, 

And  he,  with  rudeness,  snatched  it  from  my  side. 

"  In  vain  I  pleaded,  to  his  cruel  ear, 

My  need  of  shelter  from  the  scorching  sun, 
And  in  its  stead  besought  a  paper  one ; 

But  his  loud  laughter  mocked  my  trembling  tear." 

A  burst  of  honest  anger  from  the  lips 

Of  gallant  officers  was  ill  restrained ; 

Their  kindling  eyes  the  English  text  explained 
To  him,  whose  joy  it  cast  into  eclipse. 

Her  gentle  heart  felt  sooth  for  his  wild  fear, 
Which  stood  in  pearls  upon  his  tawny  face  ; 
And  with  an  angel's  heart  and  woman's  grace, 

In  soft  Burmese  she  bade  him  nothing  fear. 


54  THE  APOSTLE  OF  BURMA. 

She  had  endured  so  long,  from  ribald  tongue 
And  savage  breast,  coarse  gibes  and  cruelties, 
That  she  had  gained  the  grace  to  liken  these 

To  jewels  in  her  heavenly  necklace  hung. 

Her  voice  and  smile  the  wave  of  passion  broke, 
And  brought  again  the  glow  of  festal  mirth  ; 
But  in  that  voice  and  smile  the  woman's  worth 

To  some  strong  men  a  new  evangel  spoke. 

The  Christian  Teacher,  witnessing  the  scene, 
Was  moved  to  own  it  "  passing  rich  in  mirth  ;  " 
His  Master,  had  He  walked  with  him,  on  earth 

Was  yet  so  human,  He  too  might  have  been. 


ER  self,  her  story,  and  her  sufferings  won 

Homage  from  men,  as  if  she  came  from  heaven, 
In  whose  stout  hearts  she  left  a  little  leaven, 

Whose  sacred  working  may  outlive  the  sun. 

The  noble  chief  who  ruled  at  Yandabo, 

Himself  most  honored  that  he  honored  her, 
And  him  not  less  to  whom  to  minister 

She  let,  in  love,  no  least  occasion  go  — 

CAMPBELL,  Sir  Archibald,  of  Burman  fame, 
More  honor  in  the  ages  yet  shall  win, 
For  that,  in  love,  he  took  the  JUDSONS  in, 

And  linked  with  theirs  his  prowess  and  his  name. 


THE  APOSTLE   OF  BURMA.  55 

With  tears  of  joy  his  fostering  camp  they  gained, 

And  paid  their  praises  there  to  Heaven's  high  grace ; 
Their  tears  of  sorrow  rained  upon  the  place 

When  Duty,  to  depart,  their  feet  constrained. 

Laden  with  blessings,  and  by  true  hearts  loved, 
Their  way  from  perils  shielded  to  Rangoon, 
'Mid  love's  lost  toils  the  song  will  find  them  soon, 

From  camps  of  woe  and  weal  alike  removed. 

Maloun  and  Yandabo  !  two  names  to  stand 
To  them,  of  all  life's  possible  extremes, 
Types  wide  apart  as  foul  and  happy  dreams, 

Now  terrors  and  now  raptures  to  command. 

ANGOON  no  more  repaid  their  sacred  toils ; 
Their  mission-house  a  heap  of  ruins  lay, 
The  little  church  was  scattered  in  dismay, 

And  all  around  them  War  displayed  its  spoils. 

For  Pegu-an  troops  beleaguered  now  the  town, 
Intent  the  independence  to  regain 
Of  their  old  province,  held  in  subject  chain 

Forged  by  Alampra's 46  prowess  and  renown. 

Lost  ground  and  hopes  defeated  could  not  turn 
Their  hearts  from  Burma  and  their  holy  cause ; 
Crossed  here  by  tumults  and  oppressive  laws, 

For  whiter  harvest-fields  their  bosoms  yearn. 


56  THE  APOSTLE  OF  BURMA. 

The  Teacher  at  the  British  camp  displayed 
Such  skill  and  aptness  in  diplomacy,  — 
While  none  could  use  the  Burman  speech  as  he,  — 

That  its  brave  general  coveted  his  aid. 

The  Avan  King,  too,  knew  his  worth  so  well, 
He  fain  at  court  had  kept  him  as  "  his  own," 
And  with  rewards  and  honor,  from  the  throne, 

Had  urged  him  at  his  capital  to  dwell. 

Not  honors  and  not  gold  the  Teacher  sought ; 
The  boon  he  craved  the  monarch  would  not  grant, 
His  royal  grace  through  Burma's  realm  to  plant 

The  new  religion  from  the  New  World  brought. 

Forbidden  this,  the  "  golden  city  "  lured 

No  more  the  Teacher's  heart  to  linger  there ; 
Burma  had  other  fields  as  Ava  fair, 

In  which  soul-liberty  might  be  secured. 


HE  peace  but  now  confirmed  at  Yandabo, 
Of  southern  provinces  the  Empire  robbed  ; 
And  after  these  his  eager  bosom  throbbed 
As  gospel-fields  to  reap,  if  first  to  sow. 

On  the  east  border  of  the  Bengal  Bay, 
The  ceded  province  of  Tenasserim 
Another  "  promised  land  "  appeared  to  him, 

For  safe  possession  under  Christian  sway. 


THE  APOSTLE  OF  BURMA.  57 

Already  he  had  viewed  the  province  o'er, 
With  England's  envoy,  to  appoint  the  place 
Which  its  new  capital  might  fitly  grace, 

Of  Amherst  named,  close  on  the  Salwen  shore. 

There  the  new  mission  station  soon  was  set, 

And  there  his  loved  ones  found  an  English  home ; 
While  he,  on  errands  grave  and  great,  should  roam, 

Close  knit  with  his  unfaltering  purpose  yet. 

Only,  for  that  he  might  make  more  secure 
For  him  and  others  Burma's  gospel-field, 
Would  he  his  strength  to  earthly  service  yield, 

His  loyalty  to  Christ,  so  great,  so  pure. 

Rewards  at  Ava  and  at  Yandabo, 

For  embassies  and  toils  of  pen  and  speech, 
Might  well,  in  sum,  a  hundred  times  outreach 

What  golden  rills  from  mission-work  would  flow. 

So  keen  and  lucent  was  his  sense  of  right, 
He  for  himself  could  hold  nor  gifts  nor  fees, 
Received  beyond  his  sacred  ministries, 

And  keep  the  honor  of  his  service  white. 

Into  the  mission  treasury  hence  he  told 47 
The  generous  gains  his  civic  service  won  ; 
And  if  some  thought  he  had  to  duty  done 

No  violence,  to  call  his  own  that  gold, 


58  THE  APOSTLE   OF  BURMA. 

A  higher  law  his  conscience  and  his  deed, 
For  highest  service,  with  effect  declared ; 
The  mission  counsellors  his  judgment  shared, 

And  made  his  deep  conviction  thence  their  creed. 


ELUCTANT  now  and  slow  my  measures  move, 
Tender  and  mournful,  to  the  place  of  death  ; 
Where  so  great  loveliness  resigned  its  breath, 
A  threnody  of  woe  the  song  must  prove. 

She  who,  at  Ava  and  at  Oung-pen-la, 
Won  brutal  men  to  softness  by  her  grace, 
Illumined  prison  glooms  with  her  sweet  face, 

And  on  despair  shone  like  a  morning  star ; 

She  who  for  hopeless  hunger  yet  found  food, 

Whose  touch  on  anguish  dropped  a  soothing  balm, 
Whose  voice  was  music,  and  her  sigh  a  psalm, 

Whose  presence  shamed  all  sin  by  her  pure  good,  — 

She  in  the  fulness  of  a  fresh  delight, 
Of  hope  rekindled  from  its  ashes  cold, 
And  ere  her  sainted  life  was  growing  old, 

Took  to  her  spirit's  native  home  her  flight. 

She  died  without  the  farewell  clasp  and  kiss 
Which  would  have  soothed  the  agony  of  death  ; 
He  was  not  near  to  catch  her  lapsing  breath, 

Or  charm  its  sigh  into  a  living  bliss. 


AXX  HAZBLTINK 


THE  APOSTLE   OF  BURMA.  59 

Alone  with  God,  for  peace  to  her  sweet  soul, 

(Though  kindly  care  and  willing  hands  were  nigh) 
It  had  not  been  so  hard  for  her  to  die, 

If  in  his  arms  had  "  broke  the  golden  bowl." 

He  filled  her  thought  until  she  thought  no  more ; 

Her  latest  words  were  left,  to  nerve  his  heart, 

From  mission-labors  never  to  depart, 
Till  she  should  meet  him  on  the  heavenly  shore. 

When  one  half  more  the  sun  had  run  his  round,48 
The  child-bud  fading  while  upon  her  breast, 
Had  withered  quite,  and,  laid  with  her  at  rest, 

Made  doubly  dear  the  Hope-tree  shadowed  ground. 

O  honored  husband,  teacher,  friend,  and  love  ! 

Was  ever  mortal  more  of  earth  bereft  ? 

'T  was  well  of  Heaven  thou  hadst  thy  Master  left, 
And  saintly  eyes  on  watch  for  thee  above  ! 


YEAR  at  Amherst  sped,  and  then  Maulmain ; 
For  men  propose,  but  God  is  arbiter ; 
It  pleased  the  English  general  to  prefer 
The  latter  place  to  plant  his  camp  again. 

Thither  the  tide  of  life  and  motion  flowed, 
And  dear  to  him  as  was  the  Hopia-tree,  — 
A  spot  for  sweet  and  hallowed  memory,  — 

The  Teacher  made  Maulmain  his  fixed  abode.49 


60  THE  APOSTLE   OF  BURMA. 

There  centred  long  the  hopes,  the  toils,  the  prayers, 
Which  crowned  with  blessing  there,  knew  yet  no 

bound, 
To  which  the  tocsin  of  the  Cross  might  sound, 

To  save  the  perishing  from  Satan's  snares. 

Two  years  of  war  and  bonds  and  wanderings, 

By  hostile  hands  delayed,  by  strange  winds  blown, 
His  first  fruits  scattered,  little  new  seed  sown  — 

Appeared  a  day  of  small  and  feeble  things. 

His  steadfast  faith  alone,  in  Him  whose  voice 
Had  sent  him  forth  with  promise  of  His  aid, 
Made  him,  in  front  of  perils,  unafraid, 

And  in  deep  tribulations  to  rejoice. 

And  with  the  mystic  glass  of  faith  for  sight, 
The  small  things  into  new  proportions  grew ; 
Could  he  but  see  their  thronging  shadows  through, 

The  instant  glooms  might  kindle  into  light 

The  broken  zayats  could  be  built  again, 
The  scattered  church  had  living  pillars  yet ; 
And  wasted  months,  that  waked  his  keen  regret, 

Seen  as  his  Master  sees,  seem  fit  as  few. 

Money  and  men  the  growing  cause  required ; 
And  through  our  land  the  Macedonian  cry 
Which  Paul,  from  Troas,  drew  to  Philippi, 

From  Burma  rang,  and  Christly  souls  inspired. 


THE  APOSTLE  OF  BUR  AT  A.  6 1 

Nor  rang  the  cry  in  vain  ;  and  JUDSON'S  .  hands, 
Like  those  of  Moses,  on  the  hill,  were  stayed 
By  BOARDMAN,  the  beloved,  and  faithful  WADE, 

Whose  names  are  shrined  throughout  all  Christian  lands. 

The  laborers  were  so  few,  so  great  their  need, 
The  zealous  converts  into  teachers  grew ; 
And  to  their  mission  and  their  Master  true, 

They  went  with  zeal  to  sow  the  gospel  seed. 

The  sowers  cast  it  oft  on  stony  ground ; 

For  Sin  and  Superstition,  hand  in  hand, 

With  foul  idolatries  filled  all  the  land, 
And  precious  fruit,  though  rare,  made  joy  abound. 

The  Maulmain  zayats  gathered  eager  throngs, 

Some  to  dispute,  and  more  "  new  things  "  to  hear ; 
While  daily  some,  with  eyes  and  hearts  sincere, 

Gave  heed  to  gospel  sermons,  prayers,  and  songs. 

RESTLESS  zeal  now  filled  the  Teacher's  mind 
New  centres  of  the  gospel  truth  to  form  ; 
Fain  would  he  take  Sin's  citadels  by  storm  ; 
For  that,  his  earthly  all  he  had  resigned. 

His  loved  ones  he  had  laid  'neath  Burman  sod, 
His  honored  sire  now  slept  within  the  tomb ; 
For  what  in  his  lone  bosom  was  there  room 

But  single,  sacred,  ceaseless  zeal  for  God  ? 


62  THE  APOSTLE   OF  BURMA. 

That  he  might  come  by  heavenly  gains  secured, 
In  heathen  souls  to  Christ  from  idols  won, 
To  count  his  earthly  sacrifices  none, 

And  naught  the  bonds  and  pains  he  had  endured. 

Why  wonder  we  that  such  devotion  grew 
In  the  great,  empty  chamber  of  his  soul, 
To  mystic  passion  taking  there  control, 

And  moulding  his  rare  nature  half  anew  ? 

To  mien  and  manner  of  a  charming  grace, 

And  social  powers  to  make  his  presence  sought, 
Which  shone  the  more  for  halo  of  high  thought, 

He  joined  the  spell  of  pathos  in  his  face. 

To  veil  such  suavity  with  sombre  air, 

And  smile,  as  if  to  smile  't  were  his  no  more ; 
To  shun,  to  others'  pain,  their  festal  door, 

And  where  delights  were  few,  refuse  a  share,  — 

All  this  in  him  was  fruit  of  lengthened  pain, 
Which  wounded  not  his  gentle  flesh  alone, 
But  haply  into  sickness  of  the  brain  had  grown, 

So  deep  had  bitten  in  his  soul  the  chain. 

Upon  the  street  or  in  the  zayat,  met 
Of  priest  to  cavil,  or  of  carl  to  learn, 
His  drooping  eye  with  its  old  fire  would  burn, 

And  his  young  zeal  and  force  shine  vital  yet. 


THE  APOSTLE   OF  BURMA.  63 

Unstinted  every  work  of  sacred  aim  ; 

He  preached  and  wrote  and  toiled  and  went, 
Afar  and  near,  till  oft  his  strength  was  spent 

In  service,  or  in  sacrifice,  the  same. 


ITH  closer  copy  of  his  Master's  mode 
Than  it  were  wise,  or  well,  for  all  to  make, 
He  sought  the  jungle  for  that  Master's  sake, 
And  in  its  glooms  for  forty  days  abode. 

If  winged  angels  bore  him  there  no  aid, 
Sweet  ministers  of  grace  his  needs  supplied ; 
And  when,  in  deeper  glooms,  he  fain  would  hide, 

A  strange  lone  spot  his  place  of  prayer  he  made. 

Near  where  a  moss-grown  Buddhist  temple  stood, 
A  tall  pagoda,  desolate  and  grim, 
A  haunt  more  fit  for  ravenous  beasts  than  him, 

And  a  drear  distance  in  the  jungle-wood. 

There,  in  rude  oratory,  day  by  day, 

In  meditation  deep,  and  prayer  devout, 

From  all  the  world  and  worldly  things  shut  out, 

The  Christian  hermit  passed  long  hours  away. 

When  shadows  o'er  his  altar  fell,  at  length, 

He  sought  the  hermitage  his  hands  had  reared 
•     On  the  thick  jungle's  edge,  the  town  that  neared, 
Where  sleep  and  pilgrim's  bread  sustained  his  strength. 


64  THE  APOSTLE   OF  BURMA. 

An  aged  man  who  at  his  feet  had  sat 

Tracked  once  unseen  his  Teacher's  jungle-way ; 
And  the  next  dawn,  when  he  was  come  to  pray, 

O'er  a  rude  bench  was  twined  of  twigs  a  mat. 

If  yet  he  knows  who  that  dear  deed  had  done, 
He  learned  it  where  all  knowledge  is  —  above ; 
An  old  disciple  thus  had  shown  his  love,50 

Renewed  ere  long  in  realms  beyond  the  sun. 

ASSED  thus  some  months  of  his  devoted  life, 
A  part  exceptional  which  some  might  deem, 
In  its  subjectiveness  of  aim  extreme, 

An  unwont  term  of  inward  passionate  strife. 

A  struggle,  rather,  shaped  by  his  great  zeal, 

Through  years  of  self-surrendering  toils  and  pains, 
To  grasp  beyond  and  garner  priceless  gains, 

Of  heathen  souls  their  everlasting  weal. 

That  holy  zeal,  like  mountain  stream  close  pent 
In  unwont  bounds,  that  breaks  opposing  walls, 
And  from  its  rush  and  turmoil  silent  falls, 

Self-centred,  motionless,  in  force  o'erspent ; 

Baffled  by  foes  and  bruised  by  fetters  sore, 
Wounded  to  weakness,  at  the  brink  of  graves, 
Rent  its  restraints  to  sink  in  lapsing  waves, 

And  find,  within  itself,  its  flood  and  shore. 


THE  APOSTLE   OF  BURMA.  65 

If  overwhelmed  with  heavy  stress  of  grief, 
His  ardent  nature  sunk  beneath  the  wave, 
Till  he  communed  too  closely  with  the  grave, 

And  in  monastic  vigils  sought  relief, 

He  from  the  spell  to  brighter  zeal  awoke, 
Forgot  the  open  grave 81  —  until  he  died  — 
And,  by  his  dreams,  his  labors  multiplied. 

Till  gospel  light  o'er  hills  and  valleys  broke. 

N  Burma's  borders,  north  and  south  and  east, 
Range  numerous  hill-tribes  simple  and  uncouth ; 
And,  chiefly  on  the  mountains  of  the  south, 

He  spread  for  the  Karens  the  gospel  feast. 

Untamed  and  shy,  from  towns  they  kept  aloof, 
Save  when  to  enter  them  by  needs  constrained ; 
Nor  to  their  haunts  was  easy  access  gained,  — 

Groups  of  rude  huts  of  wood  and  branch-wove  roof. 

At  Rangoon,  first,  the  Teacher  saw  these  men, 
By  twos  or  threes,  go  straggling  by  his  door, 
In  a  strange  garb  he  ne'er  had  seen  before, 

But,  with  his  eye,  his  heart  they  captured  then. 

Of  his  own  converts  eagerly  he  sought 

All  that  he  might  of  the  strange  tribe  to  learn ; 
His  blessed  mission  was  too  broad  to  spurn 

The  sons  of  men,  how  rude  soe'er  their  sort. 

5 


66  THE  APOSTLE   OF  BURMA. 

Not  yet  they  knew  the  power  of  gospel  grace, 

Though  in  their  bosoms  glowed  its  heavenly  hope ; 
To  their  dim  sight  they  lay  beyond  its  scope, 

A  wild,  intractable,  and  hopeless  race. 

It  fell,  in  time  of  war,  in  Rangoon  lay 
A  wild  Karen  held  bond-slave  for  a  debt, 
The  Teacher's  questions  well  remembered  yet 

Led  a  disciple  there  the  debt  to  pay. 

His  bondman  then,  as  custom  made  the  rule, 
He  held  till  time  and  peace  enabled  him, 
In  the  freed  province  of  Tenasserim, 

To  bring  the  debtor  to  the  Christian  school. 

There  Ko-Thah-byu  the  one  Great  Teacher  found, 
And  to  his  countrymen  the  Christ  made  known ; 52 
In  other  waiting  hearts  the  good  seed  sown 

Made  heathen  jungles  bloom  as  gospel  ground. 

ET  slow  the  precious  germs  of  truth  to  spring 
In  souls  by  gross  idolatries  long  slaved ; 
And  by  revolting  vices  more  depraved, 

Strong  to  their  sins,  for  sin's  own  sake,  to  cling. 

Of  triple  tours  along  the  jungle  streams 

That  join  their  currents  to  blue  Salwen's  tide, 
And  oft,  afoot,  to  villages  aside, 

Like  some  strange  tale  the  Teacher's  record  seems. 


THE  APOSTLE   OF  BURMA.  67 

True,  yet  its  truth  than  fiction  stranger  reads,  — 
A  small  boat's  company  on  conquest  bent, 
Without  a  flag  or  warlike  instrument, 

A  pale-faced  officer  his  forces  leads ; 

Hostile  to  none  they  meet,  and  yet  at  strife 

With  the  false  gods  before  whose  shrines  they  kneel. 
Their  only  weapons  words  and  strong  appeal 

To  turn  their  paths  of  Death  to  ways  of  Life. 

And  some  they  won  to  tears,  and  some  to  wrath 

At  the  divine  requirement  to  repent, 

As  fearless  Paul  to  old  Galatia  went, 
And  starred  with  Christian  churches  all  his  path. 

Burma's  Apostle  in  the  jungles  taught, 

And  whom,  in  love,  his  sweet  evangel  prized, 
Or  old  or  young,  believing,  he  baptized, 

So  mightily  by  him  God's  spirit  wrought. 

Thus,  here  and  there,  through  all  the  wilderness 
Gleamed  gospel  lamps  upon  the  heathen  gloom, 
Like  twinkling  stars  before  the  ampler  room 

The  risen  sun  shall,  at  God's  noon-time,  bless.53 

Who  is  so  wise  the  heart's  intent  to  tell  ? 

With  bitter  oft  is  dashed  the  cup  of  sweet ; 

Tares  evermore  are  mingled  with  the  wheat, 
As  witnesses  the  Master's  parable. 


68  THE  APOSTLE  OF  BURMA. 

When  on  his  path  defection  cast  its  gloom, 
He  would  not  keep  the  record  from  his  page  • 
And  when  his  way  was  blocked  by  Buddhist  rage, 

Not  more  his  pen  than  fell  his  heart  afraid. 

As  if  with  tears  for  ink,  his  pleas  were  writ 

For  men  and  means  the  spreading  fields  to  reap, 
Alike  when  blighted  prospects  made  him  weep, 

And  when  the  smile  of  God  the  darkness  lit. 


OW  may  a  happy  marriage  song  be  sung, 

When  two  lone  hearts  their  widowhood  forsake, 
And  in  love's  hallowed  bonds  fit  union. make, 

Where  double  griefs  their  shadows  long  had  flung. 

With  three  slow  years  of  sacred,  sweet  employ, 

Had  sainted  BOARDMAN'S  widow  crowned  his  tomb, 
And  kindled  light  from  Heaven  'mid  heathen  gloom 

In  scores  of  Karen  hearts  at  old  Tavoy. 

Her  holy  heroism  matched  with  JUDSON'S  well : 
One  only  aim  each  earnest  soul  inspired ; 
And  his  great  heart,  with  whelming  conflicts  tired, 

Found  rest  and  life  again  in  Love's  strong  spell. 

A  decade  of  redoubled  zeal  ensued 

In  mission-labors  wider  and  more  wide, 

Harvests  with  harvesters  were  multiplied, 
And  the  Great  Husbandman  pronounced  them  good. 


THE  APOSTLE   OF  BURMA.  69 

When  five  long  lustrums  of  his  life  had  passed 
In  work  that  seemed  half  wasted  for  small  gains, 
So  scarred  it  was  with  hindrances  and  pains, 

Its  high  achievement  we  behold  at  last ! 

Five  years  of  wrestle  with  a  crude,  quaint  speech 
Had  shaped  it  deftly  to  his  tongue  and  pen, 
And  twenty  more  availed  for  millions  then  — 

To  place  God's  Holy  Book  within  their  reach. 

How  great  that  toil  in  doing  could  we  guess, 
By  all  its  bars  and  barrenness  of  aid, 
As  bricks,  aforetime,54  without  straw  were  made, 

Yet  must  it  seem  immeasurably  less 

In  what  was  done,  in  the  accomplished  deed  — 
Unnumbered  open  leaves  spread  all  abroad, 
With  messages  of  grace  and  peace  from  God 

That  every  hungering  eye  and  heart  might  read. 

What  were  the  Palm-leaves  in  the  Baskets  more 

Which  Buddha's  sun-robed  priests  alone  could  spell, 
When  every  man  might  make  his  sick  soul  well 

With  healing  leaves  of  grace  unknown  before  ? 

This  marvellous  work,  if  seeming  long  deferred, 
Had  shown  its  steps  through  all  the  tedious  way ; 
Each  printed  tract  of  millions,  yet  a  ray 

Of  light  divine  to  illume  the  spoken  word. 


70  THE  APOSTLE  OF  BURMA. 

That  great  work  wrought  —  the  Burman  Bible  done  — 
Stands  like  some  Pharos  'twixt  two  eras  built ; 
Its  backward  light  quenched  in  unfathomed  guilt, 

Its  forward  gleams  outstretching  to  God's  sun  ! 

O  priests  of  Buddh,  your  triple  baskets  bear, 

And  plunge  them  with  their  mystic  palm-leaves  forth 
On  Irawaddy's  tide  !     Gone  is  their  worth, 

And  vain  their  symbols  as  the  empty  air. 


WIXT  Burma's  capital  and  port  half-way 
Lies  Prome,  a  city  populous  and  old, 
Where  one  brief  season  through,  with  spirit  bold, 
The  Teacher  strove  foundations  new  to  lay. 

His  soul  was  sore  that  into  Burma's  heart 
He  might  not  cast  the  precious  gospel  seed, 
And,  near  its  golden  Throne,  with  pagans  plead 

From  idol  shrines  and  worship  to  depart. 

If  now  at  Prome,  on  the  great  river's  marge, 
Some  heavenly  grain  in  patience  he  might  sow, 
His  tears,  more  potent  than  the  flood's  strong  flow, 

Might  the  small  seed  in  germs  of  grace  enlarge. 

Lodged  in  an  English  home  —  all  else  denied  — 
A  ruined  zayat  he  his  temple  made, 
Which,  scarce  beyond  a  tall  pagoda's  shade, 

Should  lure  its  votary's  steps  to  turn  aside. 


THE  APOSTLE   OF  BURMA.  71 

His  face  and  dress,  his  voice  and  open  book, 
As  in  Rangoon,  the  curious  passer  drew, 
And  daily  some  returned,  while  daily  grew 

The  throng  to  listen,  or  content  to  look. 

Hope  in  his  heart  now  mounted  into  flame ; 

No  threatening  tones  the  hush  of  hearing  stirred, 
While  in  soft  Burman  speech  he  preached  the  Word, 

And  some  eyes  gleamed  with  joy,  or  sunk  with  shame. 

Thus  glided  days  away,  till  one  sad  morn 

The  Teacher  in  his  zayat  sat  alone  ; 

Cold  looks  or  shy  toward  the  door  were  thrown, 
As  if  of  sudden  apprehension  born. 

Counsel,  if  not  command,  from  Ava  came, 
That  he  should  turn  his  face  and  feet  from  Prome ; 
His  mission  there  might  find  no  favoring  home, 

And  in  his  tortured  bosom  sank  Hope's  flame. 

Yet  bravely  oft  the  heathen  zayats  near, 

And  most  on  rite  and  funeral  days,  he  preached, 
Where  few,  or  many,  by  his  words  were  reached, 

If  haply  he  might  win  some  willing  ear. 


T  a  great  idol's  side,  beneath  its  roof, 

One  Burman  worship-day,  a  brick  his  seat, 
He  preached  the  Cross  close  at  the  idol's  feet, 

And  with  soft  utterance  silenced  fierce  reproof. 


72  THE  APOSTLE   OF  BURMA. 

His  native  helpers  —  three  young  Burmese  men  — 
Echoed  their  leader's  zeal  with  earnest  word, 
And  Moung  Dway's  native  eager  tones  he  heard 

Ring  out  the  other  side  the  idol  then. 

At  length  the  work,  begun  in  hope,  must  close 
In  seeming  failure  to  our  human  sight, 
And  proud  old  Prome  be  left  in  heathen  night, 

Whenas  faint  gleams  of  gospel  dawn  arose. 

Not  yet  in  Burma,  'neath  its  native  King, 
Might  a  still  kinglier  lordship  be  proclaimed  ; 
Not  yet,  of  gods  of  brick  and  stone  ashamed, 

Her  swarthy  sons  to  Christ  would  homage  bring. 

Now  may  we  list  his  words  at  that  sad  hour, 
To  Maulmain  and  Rangoon  and  Boston  sent, 
Upon  the  week's  last  day,  and  that  nigh  spent, 

His  sinking  soul  sustained  by  Heaven's  high  power. 

He  and  his  three  disciples  were  afloat 
Upon  the  golden  river's  wrinkling  tide ; 
Rich  sunset  glories  gilded  old  Prome's  pride, 

Her  god  Shway-San-dau 55  gleaming  on  their  boat : 

"  Farewell,  old  Prome ;  farewell,  thy  towering  god, 
•Against  whose  spell  if  I  have  vainly  striven, 
As  yet  too  firm  thy  base-stones  to  be  riven, 

Soon  shall  thou  fall,  smit  by  Jehovah's  rod. 


THE.  APOSTLE   OF  BURMA.  73 

"  Of  those  who  gild  thee  with  thy  splendors  now, 
And  pay  their  senseless  homage  at  thy  court, 
The  sons  shall  of  thy  tinselled  towers  make  sport, 

And  thy  tall  head  prone  to  the  dust  shall  bow. 

"  Farewell,  oh  Prome  !     Thy  pagan  sons,  farewell ; 

Here  I  had  fain  my  life's  last  labors  spent. 

Ye  ask  me  not  to  stay,  and  I  am  sent 
Where  I  the  story  of  the  Cross  may  tell. 

"  I  leave  ye  gospel  tracts,  and  pray  ye  read  ; 
And  if  ye  call  me,  though  in  whispered  voice, 
At  Burma's  farthest  bounds,  I  will  rejoice, 

And  on  the  wings  of  love  come  back  with  speed !  " 


N  wise  retreat,  yet  in  no  timid  flight, 
The  envoy  of  the  Cross  from  peril  goes  ; 
Less  his,  than  his  exalted  Master's  foes 
Engird  him  with  their  fierce  tyrannic  might. 

Within  the  Emperor's  gates  he  lingers  yet, 
And  at  Rangoon  his  standard  lifts  anew ; 
With  tireless  zeal  his  labors  to  pursue, 

And  with  fresh  trophies  soothe  his  old  regret. 

Month  after  month  his  house  a  zayat  proved, 
By  eager  feet  and  hungry  hearts  beset ; 
Demands  for  Gospel  leaves  could  scarce  be  met, 

Though  to  all  haste  the  Maulmain  press  was  moved. 


74  THE  APOSTLE   OF  BURMA. 

Besides  the  Gospels  and  the  "  Scrippet "  leaves 58 
(These  latter  single  texts,  or  two  or  three, 
Like  a  sole  leaf  from  off  a  spreading  tree, 

Whose  scantiness  the  weary  traveller  grieves), 

A  score  of  tracts,  with  skill  and  care  prepared  — 
Appeal  and  argument  and  proof,  designed 
To  reach  and  win  the  subtle  native  mind  — 

In  the  great  gospel  work  had  largely  shared. 

Honor  to  minds  and  pens  of  love  inspired, 
Of  men  and  women  on  the  mission  field, 
This  verse  were  bare  and  blameful  not  to  yield 

For  vital  helps  in  the  great  cause  required. 

With  ardent  clamor,  sometimes  urged  with  tears, 
When  scanty  grew  the  Teacher's  hoarded  store, 
And  unavailing  his  strong  pleas  for  more, 

Came  suitors  from  afar  'twixt  hopes  and  fears. 

The  "View,"  the  "  Balance,"  and  the  "  Catechism," 
Poor  Bennet's  press  toiled  day  and  night  to  print ; 
Hoe's  "  patent  "  then  had  been  to  him  a  mint, 

These  tracts  to  coin  for  all  the  land's  baptism  ! 


IS  double  toils,  unintermitted  still,  — 
Toils    with   his    pen,    and    wayside    counsels 

more,  — 
Upon  his  shattered  nerves  incessant  bore, 

And  wasted  only  not  his  iron  will. 


THE  APOSTLE  OF  BURMA.  75 

The  mission  guardians  and  the  Church  at  home 
Yearned  to  behold  their  great  Apostle's  face, 
The  rest  for  him  —  for  them  the  inspiring  grace  — 

And  sent  him  love's  strong  summons  while  at  Prome. 

True  servant  to  his  Master's  work,  and  more 
Stern  martyr  to  his  own  most  tender  heart, 
That  ne'er  from  Maulmain's  harbor  might  depart 

An  English  ship,  or  bound  to  his  own  shore, 

That  brought  not  his  deep  longings  to  his  eyes, 
To  dim  the  vision  —  sweeter  still  for  tears  — 
Of  scenes  and  faces  of  his  childhood's  years, 

Whose  sweet  remembrance  symbolled  Paradise. 

And  here  we  read,  through  tears  to  his  akin, 
His  strong  heroic  answer  to  the  call,  — 
"  I  lay  my  heart's  desire  'neath  Duty's  pall, 

Content,  from  toils,  God's  rest  to  enter  in." 

Great-souled,  he  spared  himself  nor  toils  nor  pains, 
Yet  cared  and  watched,  with  tenderness  and  zeal, 
For  all  his  fellow-helpers'  want  and  weal, 

His  happiest  guerdon  in  their  happiest  gains. 

When  faithful  BOARDMAN  in  the  jungles  died, 
His  holy  armor  girt  upon  his  back, 
His  brother-heart  was  broken  on  the  rack 

Of  woe,  with  Christ's  for  Lazarus  allied. 


76  THE  APOSTLE   OF  BURMA. 

The  Mission  was  his  heart's  intensest  throb ; 

Its  life-blood  intermingled  with  his  own  ; 

All  else  resigned,  he  lived  for  that  alone  — 
His  daily  breath,  a  sigh  of  prayer,  a  sob. 


HEN  to  full  fifty  years  his  life  had  run, 
And  half  of  these  on  Burman  soil  were  spent, 
His  eye  and  heart  in  retrospect  were  bent 
What  he  had  seen,  and  what  his  Lord  had  done. 

He  saw  with  half  dismay  his  ten  years'  toil 
In  Burma's  seaport  blighted  and  undone, 
Scattered  afar  the  little  flock  he  won,  — 

Of  persecution  and  of  wars  the  spoil. 

He  saw  of  Ava  and  of  Oung-pen-la 

The  dreadful  prisons  and  their  galling  chains ; 
And  in  his  feet  could  feel  the  lingering  pains, 

As  Paul  before  him  bore  his  Master's  scar. 

He  saw  the  graves  of  Hope,  the  graves  of  Love, 
In  deeper  shade  than  of  the  Hopia-tree ; 
But  on  the  "  golden  face  "  he  might  not  see 

The  smile  he  sought,  his  mission  to  approve. 

Ah  !  many  clouds  upon  his  backward  sight 
The  eager,  brave,  and  faithful  Teacher  saw ; 
In  all  his  earnest  toils  defect  and  flaw 

Shed,  for  his  eye  alone,  a  dubious  light. 


THE  APOSTLE   OF  BURMA.  77 

His  heart  a  happier  retrospection  gained, 
As  deeper,  farther  than  his  eye  its  glance 
Beneath,  beyond  the  instant  circumstance, 

And  upward  into  Heaven's  pure  radiance,  strained. 

Therein  the  ruin  at  Rangoon  was  robed 
With  softening  vestments  of  Divine  intent ; 
Each  harm  and  hindrance  there  in  wisdom  sent, 

To  prove  and  crown  his  faith  by  trials  probed. 

And  to  his  heart  the  fetters  did  not  reach, 

That  to  his  flesh  seemed  more  than  he  could  bear ; 
The  light  from  Heaven  revealed  his  Master  there, 

With  "  It  is  I,  be  not  afraid  "  —  His  speech. 

And  when  upon  the  Hope-tree  graves  his  heart 

Looked,  lo  !  the  shadows  all  had  fled ; 

He  saw  at  God's  right  hand  those  who  were  dead, 
And  turned  from  death  no  more  his  gaze  apart. 

And,  with  new  vision,  seeing  what  was  done, 
His  introspect  his  bosom  filled  with  peace ; 
Doubts,  fears,  and  cankerous  sorrows  knew  surcease ; 

And  Burma's  night  broke  in  Christ's  rising  sun. 

New  mission-posts  beneath  a  friendly  flag, 

If  only  on  the  Empire's  marge,  are  set, 

And  in  the  reach  of  Ava's  subjects  yet, 
While  gospel  lamps  flame  forth  on  crest  and  crag. 


78  THE  APOSTLE  OF  BURMA. 

Beyond  the  Teacher's  fondest  hopes  at  first, 
That  he  might  count  for  Christ  a  hundred  souls, 
Lo  !  to  a  tenfold  reach  his  record  rolls 

Of  bonds  of  sin  and  superstition  burst. 

Karens,  Taligns,87  and  Burmans  to  the  Cross 
From  Buddhist  idols  and  pagodas  turn, 
And  kindling  fast  the  signal  lanterns  burn, 

Where  Christian  zayats  jungle-glades  emboss. 

Nor  these  sole  trophies  of  five  lustrums  shine ; 
The  Book  of  God  ten  thousand  natives  read, 
And  every  verse  a  blow  to  Buddha's  creed, 

If  but  God's  Spirit  breathes  along  the  line. 

Fairer  than  leaves  of  lotus  and  the  palm 
Spring  leaves  of  love  for  guilty  pagan  souls, 
Where  Sahven's  stream,  or  Irawaddy  rolls, 

And  lo  !  the  sin-sick  seek  their  healing  balm. 


ROM   backward  outlook,  thus  with  gladness 

crowned, 

The  vision  changes,  in  life's  wonted  way, 
To  one  of  shadows  veiling  sunny  day, 

As  'neath  sky-kissing  hills  dim  vales  are  found. 

The  iron  rusts,  the  heart  of  oak  decays, 

Though  long  defied  of  each  are  strain  and  storm ; 
And  wasting  ills  assail  the  virile  form, 

Whose  tempest-scars  we  look  on  with  amaze. 


THE  APOSTLE   OF  BURMA.  79 

His  voice,  mellifluous  and  magnetic,  fell 
To  painful  whispers  ominous  and  hoarse ; 
And  dreading  deeper  malady  and  worse, 

Along  the  paths  that  guard  life's  citadel, 

He  sought  the  sooth  and  vigor  of  the  air 

That  borrows  balm  and  blessing  from  the  sea ; 
Nor  that,  nor  draughts  of  Christian  sympathy 

At  Serampore,  wrought  of  the  wrong  repair. 

Not  long  enough  at  sea,  nor  lingering  long 
Where  duties  gave  him  intermissions  sweet, 
More  eager  loved  ones  at  his  home  to  greet, 

The  voyage  closed  in  fear,  as  so  this  song. 


OPE  sprang  again  as  now  the  year  declined ; 

And  one  sweet  Sabbath  morn  his  longed-for 
voice 

In  Maulmain's  zayat  made  sad  souls  rejoice, 
While  happy  Burmese  eyes  like  planets  shined. 

His  public  labors  lessened,  steadier  grew 

His  arduous  work  on  Burma's  unwont  speech, 
Its  subtlest  sense  and  idioms  strange  to  reach, 

With  rare  acumen  and  perception  true. 

His  printed  Bible  yet  must  be  revised ; 

No  needless  shade  must  cloud  that  Lamp  of  Life. 

With  pain  and  weakness  often  now  at  strife, 
Each  precious  moment  for  that  toil  he  prized. 


80  THE  APOSTLE  OF  BURMA. 

With  this  grand  century's  fourth  decade  begun, 
The  master-piece  of  his  achievement  stands, 
A  work  in  all  its  parts  of  mortal  hands, 

For  earth  and  Heaven,  as  of  archangels,  done. 

Now  darken  mists  and  glooms  his  onward  way, 
Yet  not  his  faith's  exalted  reach  obscure ; 
As  earthly  joys  recede  Heaven's  grow  more  sure, 

And  gild  the  cloud's  dark  crest  with  rainbow  ray. 

Again  the  sea,  and  far  its  waves  to  cross, 
Counselled  of  all,  he  dallied  with  delay ; 
Counting  the  cost  and  greatness  of  the  way, 

He.  let  occasion  slip,  and  felt  the  loss.58 

A  fortnight  to  Bengal,  and  its  fourth  day 
Stranded  the  stately  ship  anigh  to  wreck  ; 
Huge  threatening  waves  swept  wildly  o'er  the  deck, 

While  helpless,  hopeless,  sick,  the  sufferers  lay. 

A  timely  tide  —  and  He  whose  all  times  are  — 

A  woe  inestimable  averted  then ; 

Not  yet  a  foremost  one  of  earth's  great  men 
Sank,  as  beneath  the  wave»a  glittering  star. 


HE  fervid  breath  of  Bengal's  torrid  sky 
Undid  with  haste  the  friendly  sea-air's  charm, 
And  cooler  climes  must  quell  the  quick  alarm 

That  they  had  only  fled  from  Death-  to  die. 


THE  APOSTLE   OF  BURMA.  8 1 

The  youngest  of  the  little  flock  was  left 
Asleep  in  Earth's  cold  arms  at  Serampore, 
Where  Christly  eyes  would  watch  his  pillow  o'er, 

And  Christly  love  would  follow  the  bereft. 

Let  ours  pursue  them  to  the  Isle  of  France, 

On  a  stanch  ship  whose  name  with  JUDSON'S  twines ; 
The  Ramsey  —  Captain  HAMLiN,89  in  these  lines, 

A  noble  deed  to  score  in  happy  circumstance. 

This  godly  man  his  goodly  ship  would  sail, 
For  far  Maulmain,  Port  Louis  in  her  route  ; 
No  Providence  of  Heaven  would  better  suit 

The  Teacher's  wish,  and  more  his  need  avail. 

The  generous  sailor  generous  offer  made, 

And  though  in  August  blows  the  fierce  monsoon, 
And  they  must  toss  beneath  a  windy  moon, 

Of  India's  sickness  more  than  storms  afraid, 

The  long,  erratic  voyage  seemed  the  star 
Of  hope,  the  pledge  of  healing  to  the  sick ; 
Their  only  wish  beyond,  —  it  might  be  quick, 

That  they  could  breathe  the  briny  air  afar. 

Six  weeks  of  storms,  with  brief  lulls  alternate, 
On  Bengal's  treacherous  Bay  the  ship  was  tost ; 
And  with  one  dreadful  crash  they  deemed  her  lost, 

But  God  was  with  them  in  the  awful  strait. 
6 


82  THE  APOSTLE   OF  BURMA. 

Nor  doubt  we  what  His  loyal  servant  wrote  : 

"  Two  nights  I  have  not  closed  mine  eyes  to  sleep, 
But  no  weak  terrors  o'er  my  senses  creep  ; 

In  peace,  to  God  my  loved  ones  I  devote." 

Strength  to  the  weak  came  on  the  storm-bird's  wing, 
And  genial  breezes  on  the  Isle  of  France 
Availed  the  wind's  sweet  healing  to  enhance, 

Made  pallid  cheeks  to  flush,  and  white  lips  sing. 

• 

For  six  weeks  yet  across  the  Indian  main, 
The  Ramsey  bore  the  grateful  mission  band, 
Their  work  pursued  at  sea  as  on  the  Jand, 

And  owned  of  God  with  saving  grace  again. 

The  noble  ship  their  prayers  a  Bethel  made, 
A  house  of  God  where  He  revealed  His  face ; 
And  whispers,  "  Surely  God  is  in  this  place," 

From  rough  lips  fell,  and  contrite  hearts  betrayed. 

The  vessel  through  two  moons  at  Maulmain  lay, 
And  ship  and  shore  unwont  communion  kept ; 
And  when  she  sailed,  her  crew  and  captain  wept, 

As  mourned  the  elders  on  Paul's  parting  day.60 

Not  words  alone,  nor  tears,  revealed  how  much 
The  sacred  man  had  won  the  captain's  heart ; 
His  passage  fees  to  Maulmain  from  the  start  — 

As  God's  own  gold  —  his  hands  forebore  to  touch. 


THE  APOSTLE   OF  BURMA.  83 

HE  Mission  watchmen  from  their  far-off  tower, 
Prospecting  Burma's  wants,  as  years  roll  on, 
Saw  one  imperative  need,  —  a  lexicon,  — 

And  for  the  task,  a  man  with  ample  dower. 

The  Teacher,  for  the  pulpit  voiceless  still, 

Was  yet  of  marvellous  gift  of  tongues  possessed ; 
And  the  great  service,  on  his  conscience  pressed, 

Constrained  consent  from  his  reluctant  will. 

The  work  assumed,  he  could  not  fail  to  bend 
His  whole  strong  purpose  to  its  doing  well ; 
That  yet  unfinished  from  his  hands  it  fell 

Finds  reason  in  his  sweet  life's  early  end. 

One  half  his  plan  he  to  its  limit  wrought ; 

The  English-Burmese61  with  consummate  care 

And  skill,  if  with  his  Bible  we  compare, 
They  seem  alike  with  light  and  learning  fraught. 

A  new  home  and  new  labor  in  Maulmain 
Were  clouded  yet  with  shadows  of  the  grave ; 
Domestic  charms  and  sweetness  could  not  save 

The  happy  threshold  from  the  feet  of  pain. 

His  dwelling  rang  with  childhood's  careless  glee, 
And  guileless  sports  his  yet  young  heart  beguiled ; 
With  the  sweet  Burmese  prattle  of  each  child 

He  taught  them  sweeter  English  on  his  knee. 


84  THE  APOSTLE   OF  BURMA. 

But  all  the  while  the  shadow  deeper  grew, 

And  the  fond  mother's  cheek  beneath  it  paled  ; 
A  third  brief  voyage  down  the  coast-line  failed 

Her  vigorous  step  and  spirit  to  renew. 


HE  crisis  called  for  change  of  clime,  of  life  ; 

No  longer  Burma's  air,  or  Bengal's  must  she 
breathe ; 

One  only  hope  'mid  fears  could  love  inwreathe 
Of  snatching  from  the  grave  his  noble  wife. 

Noble  in  all  that  makes  a  woman's  worth, 
In  gifts  and  graces  both  of  heart  and  mind ; 
In  Burmese  lore  the  Teacher  scarce  behind, 

His  helper  lost,  his  affluence  hence  were  dearth ! 

Of  no  mean  skill  in  English  prose  and  verse, 

Her  facile  pen  was  in  translations  free  ; 

Her  gospel  tracts  and  tender  minstrelsy, 
A  myriad  Burman  tongues  shall  yet  rehearse. 

The  Bible  in  the  round  Burmese  she  made 

Her  study  and  devotion's  daily  bread ; 

And  could  her  life  on  heavenly  air  have  fed, 
Of  tropic  breath  she  had  not  been  afraid. 

Months  on  the  wave,  and  happier  months  to  spend 
Beneath  her  native  skies  and  with  her  kin, 
By  these  alone  the  victory  might  she  win 

O'er  maladies,  else  sure  in  death  to  end. 


THE  APOSTLE   OF  BURMA.  85 

Nor  must  she  in  her  weakness  go  alone 

Across  the  Indian  and  Atlantic  seas, 

Bereft  of  loving  care  and  ministries, 
By  ills  beset,  and  by  rude  tempests  blown. 

Once  and  again  had  he  the  call  denied, 

When  worn  with  labors  and  with  illness  weak, 
Rest  and  new  strength  in  his  own  land  to  seek, 

Nor  thought  to  leave  his  toils  until  he  died. 

If  now  the  home-love  in  his  heart  o'ercame 
His  sense  severe  of  duty  to  his  post, 
'T  was  not  himself  he  loved,  but  her  the  most, 

A  sacrifice  to  duty  still  the  same. 

That  he  must  leave  the  church  without  his  care 
Racked  deep  with  grief  his  sympathetic  heart ; 
Scarce  more  he  felt  the  pain  it  was  to  part 

With  half  his  quiver  full  of  children  fair. 

The  elder  of  the  flock  't  were  best  should  go 
For  skilful  nurture  in  their  mother's  land  ; 
Not  yet  to  miss  her  loving,  leading  hand, 

And  into  life's  best  grace  and  station  grow. 

Leaguered  by  hostile  winds  and  wild,  the  ship 
Off  the  Mauritius  sprung  an  ominous  leak, 
That  made  it  needful  she  repair  should  seek, 

And  at  Port  Louis  let  her  anchor  slip. 


86  THE  APOSTLE   OF  BURMA. 


OW  marks  my  song  a  purpose  great  and  brave, 
That  here  should  sunder  this  heroic  pair ; 
She,  so  improved  and  less  in  need  of  care, 

Should  sail  alone  the  wide  Atlantic's  wave. 

He,  with  his  Spartan  courage,  would  return, 
Renew  his  battles  with  quaint  Burman  words, 
In  the  lone  home-nest  guard  the  little  birds, 

And  let  home's  love-fire  down  to  ashes  burn. 

Heroic  will  of  his  ;   brave  her  consent ; 

Nor  hers  the  less  though  steeped  in  love's  hot  tears, 
Which  flowed  in  song  of  blended  hopes  and  fears 62 

Of  her  sweet,  sainted  self  our  monument. 

So  nigh  the  purpose  to  its  doing  drew, 

The  Teacher  sent  his  Burman  helpers  back, 
Himself  to  follow  by  next  ship  their  track, 

And  she  her  westward  voyage  to  pursue. 

Not  thus  the  Arbiter  of  life  and  death 

Had  on  Time's  dial  set  the  hand  for  her  ; 
In  swift  relapse  the  danger  signs  recur, 

And  doubt  hung  darkly  o'er  her  feeble  breath. 

Upon  a  ship  our  starry  flag  that  bore, 
And  soon  would  bear  it  to  a  native  port, 
Of  his  tried  soul  the  sea  Hope's  last  resort, 

They  sailed  together  from  the  sea-isle's  shore. 


THE  APOSTLE   OF  BURMA.  87 

The  Good  Hope  Cape  with  cool  breath  kissed  the  ship, 
And  her  faint  smiles  responded  to  the  kiss ; 
But  ah !  the  flush  was  but  a  seeming  bliss,  — 

A  promise  breathed,  but  fading  at  the  lip. 

At  England's  lone  and  famous  sea-girt  rock, 
Where  her  great  foe  so  long  her  captive  lay 
In  life,  —  and  death,  till  France  removed  his  clay,  — 

Tolled  her  last  hour  supreme  on  Time's  great  clock. 

While  yet  the  ship  at  St.  Helena  stayed, 

Her  last  faint  breath  like  dying  infant's  fell ; 
And  yet  again  we  say,  "  Of  Heaven  't  was  well  " 

Her  blessed  form  was  not  in  Ocean  laid. 

They  dug  her  grave  in  Earth's  strong  bosom  deep, 
Beside  another  saint's 63  —  both  far  from  home  ; 
Her  tired  feet  had  then  no  more  to  roam, 

Her  tender  eyes  naught  more  to  do  but  sleep. 

Oh  martyred  soldier  of  the  Cross,  who  bore, 

That  sacred  eve,  thy  own  great  cross  to  sea,       • 
Our  tears,  our  love,  our  praises  follow  thee  — 

As  since  to  Heaven  —  to  thy  dear  native  shore. 


E  stood  a  stranger  on  that  native  shore, 
Nor  saw  anear  him  one  familiar  face ; 
Yet  were  there  friendly  arms  for  his  embrace, 

If  none  whose  pressure  he  had  felt  before. 


88  THE  APOSTLE   OF  BURMA. 

His  wonderings  where  his  little  flock  and  he 
Should  seek  a  fold  to  shelter  them  that  night, 
And  shrinkings  else,  .were  put  to  sudden  flight, 

By  stress  of  eager  hands  and  hearts  in  sympathy. 

Happy  the  home  where  he  might  be  the  guest ! 
A  kinship  broader  than  of  blood  and  name 
Unnumbered  bosoms  stirred  with  love's  warm  flame 

His  path  to  honor  through  his  native  West. 

What  most  he  needed,  still  was  least  to  find, 
Quiet  and  rest  his  shattered  nerves  to  soothe ; 
Not  eager  crowds  and  spreading  palms  could  smooth 

His  path,  still  strewn  with  treasures  left  behind. 

His  feeble  voice  much  public  speech  denied 

To  throngs  who  flocked  that  charmed  voice  to  hear, 
Which  rung  through  Burman  zayats  sweet  and  clear, 

Yet  for  long  years  in  his  own  tongue  untried. 

They  saw  his  sad,  sweet  face,  —  and  that  to  know 
As  his,  who  thirty  years  his  Master's  cross 
Had  borne  with  tears  and  toils  and  chains  and  loss 

In  pagan  lands,  —  all  else  they  might  forego. 

And  yet  not  all.     His  own  faint  speech  was  sent 
In  louder  echoes  of  some  voice  well  known, 
And  by  the  press  besides  his  words  were  sown 

O'er  the  broad  land,  broadcast  as  where  he  went. 


THE  APOSTLE   OF  BURMA.  89 

Through  college  halls  and  large  assemblies  ran 
Warm  tides  of  mission  influence,  love,  and  zeal. 
What  less  than  ardors  could  our  churches  feel, 

To  see  and  hear  and  know  God's  marvellous  man? 

By  nature  sensitive,  reserved,  and  shy, 

He  shrunk  in  pain  from  public  eulogy ; 

He  saw  not  in  himself  what  not  to  see 
Left  others  dull  of  heart  and  dim  of  eye. 

They  saw,  they  felt,  and  could  not  help  admire, 
With  more  than  human  pride  and  empty  praise, 
How  he  had  walked  and  toiled  in  hidden  ways, 

Who  to  earth's  offered  heights  did  not  aspire. 

Nay,  but  they  knew  earth  had  no  nobler  throne 
Than  he  had  built  his  Master's  cross  beside, 
Yet  knew  not  what  he  builded  till  he  died, 

And  then  by  plaudit  of  his  Lord  alone. 

How  else  than  welcome  him  with  love's  applause 
And  tributes  wreathed  with  smiles  and  gemmed  with 

tears, 
Could  they  whose  hands  and  hearts  for  thirty  years 

With  hopes  and  prayers  and  gifts  maintained  his  cause  ? 

Another  generation  lives  since  then ; 

But  through  its  life,  from  childhood  to  this  hour, 
Its  veins  have  throbbed  with  the  seraphic  power 

Of  mission  zeal  stirred  by  his  voice  and  pen. 


90  THE  APOSTLE  OF  BURMA. 

HEN  from  June's  hands  her  fragrant  blossoms  fell, 
And  all  his  native  land  with  verdure  smiled, 
His  heart  from  Burma  could  not  be  beguiled, 

There  only  —  this  side  Beulah  —  fain  to  dwell. 

Words  may  not  tell  the  anguish  that  he  bore 

To  give  his  children  his  last  parting  kiss. 

His  sacred  courage  knew  no  rack  like  this ; 
It  was  for  earth  an  absence  evermore. 

Only  that  here  his  daughter's  life  might  take 
The  grace  and  favor  to  her  birthright  due, 
And  virtue's  noblest  ends  his  sons  pursue, 

He  left  them  not  for  his  but  for  their  sake. 

But  his  lone  bosom,  used  to  tender  love, 

And  the  dear  babes  within  the  Burman  nest,  — 
With  what  new  gift  of  God  could  both  be  blest, 

Like  wife  and  mother  as  their  brooding  dove? 

He  found  her,  and  her  heart  was  moved  for  him 64 
From  life's  bright  scenes  and  promise  to  depart ; 
Already  she  had  won  his  widowed  heart, 

And  with  devotion  filled  it  to  the  brim, 

In  that  her  facile,  graceful  pen  had  wrought 

A  picture  fair  and  vivid  to  the  life,  — 

A  sweet  memorial  of  the  angel-wife 
He  to  her  burial  on  the  sea-rock  brought. 


THE  APOSTLE   OF  BURMA.  91 

If  to  his  threescore  years  she  gave  her  youth, 

The  gift,  if  robbing  her  of  fleeting  fame, 

Repaid  her  with  a  new,  immortal  name ; 
And  thus  enriched  her  as  did  Boaz  Ruth. 

Her  brightness  blest  his  toils  with  vigor  new ; 

Her  sweetness  kept  his  changeful  nature  sweet ; 

Her  arm  lent  succor  to  his  wounded  feet ; 
Her  truth  made  that  of  Heaven  to  him  more  true. 

We  bless  her  memory,  hallowed  now  in  death, 
For  wifely  love  that  cheered  his  latest  years ; 
Her  life's  brief  mission  in  their  light  appears 

Worthy  of  song  like  that  of  her  own  breath  ! 

HEN  native  ties  were  sundered  for  the  last, 
And  he  for  Burma  sailed  with  his  young  bride, 
His  heart  and  hope  renewed  at  her  brave  side 

The  shattered  strength  of  youth  and  manhood 
past. 

He  saw  once  more  the  lone  rock  in  the  sea, 
Where  he  had  left  his  love  in  wakeless  sleep ; 
And  blessed  its  friendly  bosom,  pierced  to  keep 

Her  precious  dust  till  it  should  quickened  be. 

Five  varied  places  of  his  dead  he  told,65 

Nor  smiled  his  happy  childhood's  skies  on  one ; 
The  green  earth  had  for  him  all  service  done, 

His  mortal  form  the  sea-waves  must  enfold. 


92  THE  APOSTLE   OF  BURMA. 

Once  more  to  her  who  his  new  angel  proved, 
He  from  the  ship  a  burial-spot  disclosed, 
Where  'neath  the  Hopia's  friendly  arms  reposed 

She  first  of  him  and  half  the  world  beloved. 

From  the  twin  narrow  homes  the  young  wife  saw, 
Of  those  whose  honored  places  she  must  fill, 
To  liken  them,  what  less  than  love's  strong  will 

Could  she,  as  Heaven's  best  inspiration,  draw? 

Although  so  sadly  short  the  time  for  test, 
How  nobly  well  her  will  to  do  was  bent ! 
With  but  four  years  of  wifely  duty  spent, 

This  song  may  not  declare  her  copy  best. 

Yet  beautiful  her  self  and  service  seem, 

Through  ills  that  uncompared  with  prison-woes, 
Hunger  and  fright  and  sickness  sore  disclose, 

That  fill  our  vision  like  an  ugly  dream. 

And  one  exceeding  sorrow  was  her  lot,  — 
A  depth  of  anguish  to  the  twain  unknown ; 
They  were  not  left  of  him  on  earth  alone, 

Widowed  on  heathen  soil  —  where  he  was  not. 


NCE  more  upon  his  chosen  field  of  toil, 

He  mingled  tears  and  thanks  before  his  God,  • 
Tears  for  his  little  son  beneath  the  sod, 

And  thanks  the  mission  work  had  met  no  spoil. 


THE  APOSTLE   OF  BURMA.  93 

At  -Maulmain,  now  beneath  its  English  shield, 
The  church  in  numbers  and  in  graces  grew ; 
And  laborers  plenty,  if  fruits  yet  were  few, 

The  mission  cause  his  oversight  might  yield. 

The  burden  on  his  soul  was  still  to  bear 
The  freedom  of  the  Cross  to  slaves  of  sin ; 
From  town  and  jungle  trophies  new  to  win, 

And  make  the  desert  waste,  with  blossoms  fair. 

Such  sacred  toils  his  strength  no  more  allowed, 
And  one  great  duty  on  his  hands  was  pressed  ; 
The  new  recruits  were  equal  to  the  rest, 

And  to  his  language-work  his  will  he  bowed. 

Fain  had  he  gone  to  Ava,  there  to  heed 
Haply  some  entrance  to  the  nation's  heart ; 
And  this  denied,  at  least  the  royal  mart 

Would  yield  him  books  and  scholars  to  his  need. 

For  this  no  mandate  and  no  means  he  gained ; 
And  to  Rangoon  he  turned  his  troubled  sight, 
Sad  yet  to  go,  from  Maulmain's  dawning  light, 

Where  heathen  darkness  scarcely  rifted  reigned. 

Yet  learned  men  were  there,  and  palm-leaves  writ 
With  Buddhist  law  and  legendary  lore, 
O'er  which  his  scholar's  quiet  gaze  might  pore, 

And  for  his  ends  gain  some  rare  perquisite. 


94  THE  APOSTLE   OF  BURMA. 

N  vain  the  bard  has  sought  at  old  Rangoon 
Some  brightness  on  the  young  wife's  path  to 

throw ; 
His  measures  there  would  move  alone  to  woe, 

Save  where  her  own  sweet  courage  lifts  the  tune. 

Her  speech  and  laughter  sweetened  nauseous  draughts, 
And  kindle  smiles  as  we  to  tears  incline  — 
To  trace  the  well-masked  ill  in  each  light  line 

That  to  the  eye  her  playful  fancy  wafts. 

Their  home,  a  haunt  of  noisome  winged  things,  — 
"  Bat  Castle  "  in  her  sportive  dialect  styled,  — 
Where  she  and  hers  were  well-nigh  going  wild 

From  pests  by  day,  and  midnight  whirr  of  wings. 

Here  while  the  tedious  Buddhist  Lent  was  kept  — 
For  fifty  years  before  less  fast  than  feast ; 
Its  rigors  now  enforced  by  every  priest, 

Since  royal  eyes  o'er  rites  no  longer  slept  — 

Nor  flesh  nor  fowl  might  the  pale  strangers  eat, 
Of  which  a-sudden  fell  the  food-stalls  bare ; 
And  they  were  left,  unwarned  and  unaware, 

With  fruit  and  sodden  rice  their  only  meat. 

From  meagre  nurture  and  the  fierce  monsoon, 
The  castle  now  a  hospital  became  • 
Hope  in  their  hearts  sunk  to  a  feeble  flame, 

Forbid  to  stay,  helpless  to  leave  Rangoon. 


THE  APOSTLE  OF  BURMA.  95 

No  earthly  succor  for  their  wants  appeared ; 

Flight  to  Maulmain  the  season  storms  denied ; 

And  all  their  treasures  there  —  O  woe  beside  !  — 
The  sudden  doom  of  loss  by  fire  had  shared.66 


OW  sunk  the  long-strained  heart  in  unwont  fear, 
And  groans  of  torture  from  his  lips  escape,  — 
"  Haunted  by  foes,  and  ills  of  every  shape, 

Abroad  forsaken,  Death  awaits  us  here !  " 

A  moment's  lapse,  that  folds  a  veil  about 
His  soul's  strong  faith,  only  that,  lifting  soon 
Like  passing  cloud  across  the  lustrous  moon, 

"T  will  shine,  from  brief  eclipse,  the  brighter  out. 

Again  :  "  I  count  my  sojourn  here  to  be, 
Of  life's  whole  desert,  an  oasis  green, 
Since  I  have  gathered  from  its  darkest  scene 

Sweet  fruits  of  faith  in  God's  sufficiency." 

And  rarely  fell  a  shade  of  dull  despair 

On  the  serene  of  his  love-lighted  face ; 

Heaven  filled  his  soul  with  such  transcendent  grace, 
That  every  feature  caught  some  brightness  there. 

The  "  golden  face  "  at  Ava  now  was  dark 
With  direful  menace  to  all  foes  of  Buddh 
And  Rangoon's  fiendish  viceroy  eager  stood, 

In  blood,  to  quench  each  native  Christly  spark. 


96  THE  APOSTLE   OF  BURMA. 

But  for  the  dread  of  Britain's  arm  so  nigh, 

The  Teacher's  throat  had  felt  the  tyrant's  hand ; 
Fanatic  fire  had  so  inflamed  the  land, 

That  Christian  proselytes  and  priests  must  die. 

The  monsoon's  fierceness  lulled,  but  not  the  wrath 
Of  heathen  hate  to  gospel  men  and  words ; 
These  must  be  stilled  by  sharp  and  sudden  swords, 

Still  daring  trespass  in  forbidden  path. 

Defeat  was  sore  to  his  undaunted  breast, 
But  every  gain  was  loss  in  Death's  fell  front ; 
Else  had  he  braved  it  still,  and  borne  the  brunt 

Of  duty  done,  and  left  to  God  the  rest. 


WO  happy  years  of  sweet  domestic  life 
And  glad  scholastic  labors  at  Maulmain 
These  sombre  annals  gild  with  joy  again, 
By  dangers  unassailed,  in  Rangoon  rife. 

Here  to  his  humble  home  there  flew  a  bird 
That  nestled  fondly  on  the  mother's  breast, 
And  woke  her  rapture  in  such  song  expressed, 

Its  music  round  the  listening  world  was  heard.67 

That  daughter  was  not  born  with  angel  wings, 
And  Heaven  has  spared  her  sweetness  still  to  be, 
Of  that  dear  nest,  a  living  memory, 

Till  plumed  for  Eden,  where  her  mother  sings. 


THE  APOSTLE   OF  BURMA.  97 

Here  with  his  boys  he  was  a  boy  again, 
In  eager  sport  with  them  he  led  the  play ; 
Nor  less  he  loved  for  those  afar  to  pray, 

His  boys  "  at  home,"  all  linked  in  Love's  bright  chain. 

Here  with  a  glad  —  why  not  a  proud  ?  —  delight, 
The  last  great  labor  of  his  life  he  closed ; 
The  English-Burmese  Lexicon  reposed, 

In  royal  state,  within  his  happy  sight. 

Here  too  he  played  the  bishop  of  the  fold, 
And  lovingly  he  watched  its  welfare  o'er. 
Sometimes  he  preached  with  fervor,  as  before, 

And  still  the  story  of  the  Cross  he  told. 

Sweet  halcyon  days,  —  a  quiet  breathing- spell 

And  premonition  of  a  longer  rest, 

Yet  so  unwont  to  his  laborious  breast, 
If  sweeter  than  his  toils  he  could  not  tell. 


PON  this  calm  there  fell  a  shade  of  ill ; 

The  brooding  wing  of  widowhood  he  feared. 

The  slow  decline  of  her  so  much  endeared 
Might  well  his  heart  and  home  with  anguish  fill. 

That  brooding  wing  was  spread,  but  not  for  her ; 

Her  young  life  rallied  at  the  beck  of  love. 

The  shadow  lingered,  though  it  seemed  to  move ; 
Another  name  was  on  Death's  register. 
7 


98  THE  APOSTLE   OF  BURMA. 

Not  long  the  "  shining  mark  Death  loves  "  he  spared, 
Now  to  the  zenith  of  its  brightness  come  ; 
Not  rudely  smote  he  all  love's  music  dumb, 

Yet  with  slow  aim,  but  sure,  his  shaft  prepared. 

When  months  of  wasting  illness  baffled  skill, 
And  tender  household  ministries  proved  vain 
To  cool  his  fevered  pulse  and  soothe  his  pain, 

He  found  his  solace  in  his  Master's  will. 

Whom  he  for  forty  years  had  served  in  love, 
He  loved  the  more  that  he  must  serve  the  less ; 
Whom  he  had  trusted  through  life's  sorest  stress, 

Raised  now  his  soul  all  fear  of  Death  above. 

Not  yet  the  arrow  flew  to  pierce  his  heart, 

And  to  the  healing  sea-breath  Hope  yet  clung ; 
Its  play  had  ever  made  his  spirit  young, 

And  bade  the  weary,  halting  life-blood  start. 

A  French  ship,  bound  upon  a  voyage  far, 
At  Maulmain68  lay,  impatient  for  the  sea. 
What  else  than  happy  omen  could  this  be, 

What  less  to  Love's  dark  gloom  than  Hope's  glad  star? 

Love  through  its  blinding  tears  fond  farewells  said ; 
Borne  to  the  ship  by  his  disciples'  arms, 
Their  tears  the  tokens  of  their  love's  alarms, 

'T  was  love,  still  love,  that  his  departure  sped. 


THE  APOSTLE   OF  BURMA.  99 

UR  short,  impatient  sense  with  chiding  eyes 
Sees  the  good  ship  for  weary  days  delayed 
Denied  a  warlike  steamer's  hoped-for  aid, 

While  the  pale  sufferer  pined  for  ocean  skies. 

So  other  partings,  and  one  last  from  her 
Whom  Love  inspired,  but  Duty  yet  denied, 
To  cleave  in  wifely  fondness  to  his  side, 

While  yet  a  breath  his  languid  pulse  should  stir. 

Death  on  the  shore  inevitable  and  near, 

And  life  —  prolonged  if  not  preserved — at  sea, 
Words  may  not  tell  what  deep,  dumb  agony 

Distilled  their  final  farewell  to  a  tear  ! 

Through  five  days  on  the  blue  and  boundless  main, 
Devout  eyes  saw  that  every  rolling  wave 
Was  but  his  cradle  rocking  to  the  grave, 

In  whose  soft  depths  should  sink  and  cease  his  pain. 

The  waves  rolled  on,  and  swiftly  sailed  the  ship  ; 
But  when  the  sixth  day's  sun  was  in  the  west, 
The  weary  form  was  cradled  for  its  rest, 

And  his  great  soul  had  let  life's  anchor  slip. 

His  last  words  were  of  her,  in  two  soft  tongues,  — 
His  own  by  birth,  and  Burma's  his  in  death,  — 
"  Care  for  poor  mistress  ;  " 69  and  the  loving  breath, 

With  the  sweet  utterance,  left  the  wasted  lungs. 


100  THE  APOSTLE'  OF  BURMA. 

His  life  was  great  enough  to  fill  with  fame  • 
The  passing  century,  and  its  lines  outlive  ; 
And  still  to  Song  and  History  halo  give, 

While  speech  shall  catch  the  echo  of  his  name. 

In  Nebo's  bosom  sleeps  the  sacred  dust 

Of  Moses,  where  —  no  burial-stone  may  tell ; 
A  broader  grave  befits  our  hero  well, 

The  mighty  deep  his  ashes  holds  in  trust. 

Men  call  thee  treacherous,  oh  thou  soundless  sea, 
And  many  precious  trusts  hast  thou  betrayed  ; 
Deep  in  thy  vaults  a  myriad  dead  are  laid, 

And  Time,  of  few,  the  register  will  keep ; 

But  ages  wide  shall  not  oblivion  bring 
.  Of  his  bright  star  that  in  thy  waters  set ; 
And  when  thou  art  no  more  its  glory  yet 
Beyond  Time's  Jordan  shall  its  lustre  fling. 


Y  song  has  lost  its  theme,  since  he  is  gone 

Whose  life  and  love  its  lingering  numbers  filled ; 
But  ere  what  melody  it  makes  is  stilled  — 

Look,  friends,  with  me,  his  blessed  shadow  on. 

He  stands  apart,  single  and  separate, 

Amid  the  group  of  toilers  in  the  field ; 

Not  to  his  claim,  but  to  his  right,  we  yield 
The  chiefdom  of  his  broad  Apostolate. 


THE  APOSTLE   OF  BURMA.  ioi 

First  on  the  soil  of  Burma  he,  to  lift 

The  blood-red  banner  of  the  Son  of  God ; 
In  faith  (like  that  of  Moses  with  his  rod) 

That  he  the  flinty  rock  of  Buddh  should  rift. 

Himself  so  humble  that,  like  Paul  of  old, 
He  of  the  brethren  held  himself  the  least ; 
Yet  by  his  lowliness  his  height  increased, 

Till  who  to  seek  his  stature  is  so  bold  ? 

He  stands  apart  for  what  of  God  he  wrought, 
And  else  for  that  his  arduous  toils  are  o'er ; 
If  one  might  rise  to  count  his  trophies  more, 

Yet  single-armed  he  ne'er  his  battle  fought. 

Mark  how  he  lived  and  labored,  loved  and  lost ; 
His  life,  loves,  labors,  losses,  all  were  spent, 
From  youth  to  age,  with  one  supreme  intent,  — 

To  share  with  Christ  the  world's  redemption  cost. 

Who  shall  his  honors  sum  who  may  not  look 
For  records  kept  of  toils  and  prayers  and  tears, 
Of  tempests,  trials,  tortures,  chains,  and  fears, 

And  their  eternal  outcome,  in  God's  Book  ? 

Beloved  shade  !     That  Book  thine  eyes  have  seen, 
And  what  thy  faith  foreknew  thou  dost  behold ; 
Great  Gautama's  spell  from  Burma  backward  rolled ; 

And  gospel  light  its  thousand  rifts  between. 


102  THE  APOSTLE   OF  BURMA. 

Her  tall  pagodas  tinkle  yet  their  bells, 

But  the  sweet  air  that  rings  them  now  is  free 
To  thrill  and  swell  with  Heaven's  high  Jubilee, 

Salvation  by  the  Cross  of  Christ  that  tells. 


HOU  dost  not  marvel,  that  in  old  Rangoon, 
Where  o'er  thee  hung  the  headsman's  bloody 

sword, 
If  but  thy  lips  proclaimed  God's  Holy  Word,  — 

His  servants  preach  and  scatter  it  at  noon. 

Perhaps  thou  seest  far  beyond  our  sight, 

Which  only  yearns  as  yet  for  visions  far ; 

Shining  for  thee  not  Burma's  morning  star, 
But  of  its  noontide  sun  the  perfect  light. 

We  may  not  know  what  glories  meet  thy  gaze, 
Our  eyes  half  blinded  with  the  things  we  see  ; 
While  God  has  opened  wide  —  it  well  may  be  — 

For  thy  clear  view,  the  scenes  of  future  days. 

Burma  redeemed !     The  Buddh  by  Christ  replaced ; 

His  proud  pagodas  ruined  and  o'erthrown  ; 

His  sun-clad  priests  to  History  only  known, 
And  the  crude  Scripts  on  Palm-leaves  all  effaced. 

If  this  thou  seest  there,  oh  shade  divine ! 

Thy  steadfast  faith  has  met  its  full  reward  ; 

Thou  hast  attained  the  knowledge  of  thy  Lord, 
As  long,  we  know,  His  favor  has  been  thine. 


THE  APOSTLE   OF  BURMA.  103 

And  do  I  dream  that  on  thy  heavenly  face, 
I  seem  to  see  a  sweet,  seraphic  smile, 
As  thou  from  Heaven  beholdest  there  the  while, 

No  more  at  night,  nor  yet  in  secret  place  — 

But  in  the  day,  and  Gautama's  dark  frown  — 
The  sacred  rite  of  Christ  in  Jordan  done, 
For  happy  groups  as  thou  at  first  for  one, 

Didst  dare  the  cross,  not  seeing  then  the  crown  ? 

Beloved  soul,  translated  to  the  skies, 

Our  faith  alone,  as  yet,  can  see  thee  there ; 
But  when,  like  thee,  our  fadeless  forms  we  wear, 

To  Christ,  the  Lamb,  our  raptured  songs  shall  rise ! 


NOTES. 


NOTE  i,  p.  i. 

"  I  sing  of  JUDSON  — from  his  ardent  youth, 
With  a  strong  zeal  for  Christian  service  fired." 

ADONIRAM  JUDSON  was  born  at  Maiden,  a  picturesque  suburb 
of  Boston,  on  the  gth  of  August,  1788;  and  as  the  eldest  son  he 
received  his  father's  name.  The  vignette  on  the  titlepage  of  this 
volume  is  a  picture  of  his  birthplace  as  it  appears  to-day.  His 
father  was  a  Congregational  minister,  who  nearly  five  years  after 
the  birth  of  this  son  removed  to  Wenham,  and  subsequently,  in 
altered  ministerial  relations,  to  Braintree  and  Plymouth,  among 
which  several  places  the  childhood  and  youth  of  young  JUDSON 
were  divided.  Precocious  and  eager  for  knowledge,  his  father 
expected  great  things  of  his  manhood,  and  by  this  expectation 
excited  a  strong  ambition  in  the  boy's  mind.  At  the  age  of  six 
teen  he  was  admitted  to  Providence  College  (now  Brown  Uni 
versity),  and  at  the  age  of  nineteen  was  graduated  as  valedictorian 
of  his  class.  A  successful  teacher  at  the  age  of  twenty-one,  he 
prepared  and  published  two  acceptable  text-books.  Up  to  this 
period,  1808,  his  experience  and  life  did  not  justify  the  text  quoted 
as  the  basis  of  this  note.  His  Christian  zeal  was  not  yet  aflame ; 


106  MOTES. 

a.nd  when  it  was  kindled,  it  had,  in  spite  of  the  thoroughly  devout 
atmosphere  he  had  breathed  at  home,  and  early  religious  impres 
sions,  to  burn  the  rubbish  of  the  sceptical  philosophy  which  he 
had  gathered  during  his  college  life.  On  closing  his  school  in 
Plymouth,  this  happy  change  and  its  beneficent  result  were  brought 
about  by  an  incident  which  marked  a  tour  he  was  making  in  the 
Northern  States.  At  a  hotel  he  slept  in  a  room  adjoining  that  in 
which  was  lodged  a  young  man  ;  and  the  landlord  apologized  for 
the  necessity  of  placing  him  contiguous  to  .one  who  was  sick  and 
nigh  unto  death.  He  made  no  protest  against  this,  but  inwardly 
queried  what  would  be  his  own  feelings  if  he  were  about  to  die ; 
and  he  wondered  if  the  invalid  was  a  Christian,  or,  like  himself,  a 
sceptic.  He  heard  in  the  morning  that  the  youth  was  dead,  and 
on  inquiring  for  his  name,  was  completely  stunned  by  discovering 
that  he  was  an  intimate  friend  and  classmate.  Cutting  short  his 
tour,  he  went  home  an  earnest  inquirer  for  the  way  of  salvation. 
This  he  found  at  the  Seminary  in  Andover,  and  made  a  profession 
of  his  faith  early  in  1809.  in  his  twenty-first  year.  From  this  date 
the  couplet  of  our  text  acquires  its  justification.  He  was  now 
zealous  for  his  new  Master;  and  the  reading  of  Dr.  Claudius 
Buchanan's  famous  sermon,  "  The  Star  in  the  East,"  was  the  occa 
sion  of  kindling  in  his  soul  the  flame  which  consecrated  his  youth 
and  manhood  and  age  alike  to  the  cause  of  heathen  evangeliza 
tion.  It  may  not  be  amiss  to  illustrate  here  the  next  stanza  of 
the  text  following  the  couplet.  He  had,  indeed,  fair  visions  and 
bright  prospects  opened  before  him.  Already  he  had  been  in 
vited  to  the  pastoral  colleague-ship  of  the  largest  church  in  Bos 
ton,  and  he  had  declined  a  tutorship  at  his  Alma  Mater.  His 
mind  was  made  up  to  go  to  foreign  lands  as  a  missionary  of  the 
Cross  of  Christ. 

There  was  then  no  Foreign  Missionary  organization  in  this 
country ;  and  he,  and  others  like  minded  with  him,  besought  the 
General  Congregational  Union  of  Massachusetts  to  devise  a  plan 
for  sending  them  among  the  heathen.  This  appeal  brought  into 


NOTES.  107 

existence  the  American  Board  of  Commissioners  for  Foreign 
Missions ;  the  first,  as  even  now  it  is  in  the  extent  of  its  work  and 
means  the  foremost,  of  American  Foreign  Mission  Societies,  with 
a  record  for  which  every  Christian  heart  is  profoundly  grateful  to 
God.  This  Board  sent  the  young  candidate  to  England,  to  seek 
the  co-operation  of  the  London  Missionary  Society.  His  voyage 
was  interrupted  by  the  capture  of  the  ship  by  a  French  privateer. 
He  was  imprisoned  in  France,  and  did  not  reach  London  until 
four  months  after  he  left  Boston.  His  reception  there  was  cor 
dial,  but  it  was  not  deemed  advisable  for  the  two  Societies  to  act 
conjointly ;  and  he  returned  home,  to  be  sent  speedily  as  an  Ameri 
can  missionary  to  Asia,  or  to  whatever  point  seemed  most  prom 
ising  of  success  in  his  work.  As  an  important  equipment  for  his 
work,  he  found  a  noble  and  lovely  young  woman  willing  to  share 
his  lot  and  his  toils ;  and  on  the  5th  of  February,  1812,  he  married 
Ann  Hasseltine  of  Bradford,  Mass.,  then  in  her  twenty-third,  as 
was  he  in  his  twenty-fourth,  year.  On  the  6th  of  that  month  he 
was  ordained  at  Salem,  and  on  the  igth  he  and  his  young  wife  set 
sail  in  the  brig  Caravan  for  Calcutta,  beginning  that  "  tortuous 
course  "  to  which  another  note  refers,  and  which  had  such  marvel 
lous  issues  as  only  the  hand  of  God  could  have  effected. 

He  died  at  sea  on  the  I2th  of  April,  1850.  Of  the  interval  be 
tween  his  leaving  Boston  for  Calcutta  and  his  death,  —  an  interval 
of  over  thirty-eight  years,  —  his  only  vacation  in  the  land  of  his  birth 
was  limited  to  nine  months.  The  death  of  Mrs.  ANN  H.  JUDSON 
occurred  on  the  24th  of  October,  1826, — making  the  period  of  her 
missionary  life  less  than  fourteen  years — but  a  period  so  crowded 
with  toils  and  trials,  with  sacrifices  and  sufferings,  with  patient 
endurances  and  heavenly  devotions,  as  to  constitute  it  a  marvel 
lous  and  scarcely  paralleled  era  of  womanly  heroism. 

From  this  point  it  is  perhaps  beyond  the  province  of  this  note 
to  extend  biographical  details. 


108  NOTES. 

NOTE  2,  p.  2. 
"  On  her  lone  grave,  beneath  the  Hopia-tree." 

The  Hopia-tree  is  considered  the  most  valuable  indigenous 
timber-tree  in  the  southern  provinces  of  India.  It  is  often  sawn 
up  for  building  purposes,  and  is  used  extensively  for  boat-building. 
It  is  a  flowering  tree,  and  a  prevalent  variety  of  it  is  known  as 
hopia  odorata.  Whether  this  is  the  variety  that  overshadows  the 
graves  of  Mrs.  JUDSON  and  dear  little  "  Maria,"  or  not,  the  writer 
has  failed  to  learn.  That  special  tree  blooms,  to  the  imagina 
tion  and  heart  of  thousands,  with  flowers  suggestive  of  blossoms 
of  Paradise.  The  charm  of  poetical  description  has  been  thrown 
around  it,  and  it  may  be  a  welcome  service  that  this  note  shall 
render  to  the  reader,  to  reprint  here  the  poem  of  Mrs.  Sigour- 
ney  written  at  the  request  of  a  dear  friend,  who  sent  her  a  branch 
from  the  tree,  with  a  request  that  she  would  commemorate  it  in 
verse.  We  append  the  verses  as  they  originally  appeared. 


THE  HOPIA-TREE. 

Rest!  Rest !     The  Hopia-tree  is  green, 
And  proudly  waves  its  leafy  screen 

Thy  lowly  bed  above ; 
And  by  thy  side,  no  more  to  weep, 
Thine  infant  shares  the  gentle  sleep,  — 

Thy  youngest  bud  of  love. 

How  oft  the  feebly  wailing  cry, 
Detained  unsealed  thy  watchful  eye, 

And  pained  that  parting  hour 
When  pallid  Death,  with  stealthy  tread, 
Descried  thee  on  thy  fever-bed, 

And  proved  his  fatal  power ! 


NOTES.  109 

"  Ah,  do  I  see,  with  faded  charm, 
Thy  head  reclining  on  thine  arm, 

The  '  Teacher  '  far  away ! 
But  now,  thy  mission-labors  o'er, 
Rest,  weary  clay,  to  wake  no  more, 

Till  the  great  rising-day." 

Thus  spake  the  traveller  as  he  stayed 
His  step  within  the  sacred  shade ; 

A  man  of  God  was  he, 
Who  his  Redeemer's  glory  sought, 
And  paused  to  woo  the  holy  thought 

Beneath  that  Hopia-tree. 

The  Sal  wen's  tide  went  rushing  by, 
And  Burma's  cloudless  moon  was  high, 

With  many  a  solemn  star ; 
And  while  he  mused,  methought  there  stole 
An  angel's  whisper  o'er  his  soul, 

From  that  pure  clime  afar, 

Where  swells  no  more  the  heathen  sigh, 
Nor  'neath  the  idol's  stony  eye 

Dark  sacrifice  is  done ; 
And  where  no  more,  by  prayers  and  tears, 
And  toils  of  agonizing  years, 

The  martyr's  crown  is  won. 

Then  visions  of  the  faith  that  blest 
The  dying  saint's  rejoicing  breast, 

And  set  the  pagan  free, 
Came  thronging  on,  serenely  bright, 
And  cheered  the  traveller's  heart  that  night, 

Beneath  the  Hopia-tree. 


1 10  NOTES. 

NOTE  3,  p.  4. 
"  Some  names,  as  XAVIER'S,  three  dull  centuries  back." 

ST.  FRANCIS  XAVIER  was  a  Spanish  missionary,  surnamed  the 
Apostle  of  the  Indies,  and  a  disciple  of  Ignatius  Loyola.  His 
efforts  were  indefatigable  and  sincere,  but  as  a  modern  writer 
expresses  it,  "  They  had  not  come  to  much ;  his  successors  had 
converted  the  heathen  by  becoming  heathens  themselves."  Xavier 
was  born  April  7,  1506,  in  the  Pyrenees,  and  died  on  Dec.  2,  1552, 
after  ten  years  of  various  missionary  toils. 

NOTE  4,  p.  4. 
"  And  that  of  SCHWARTZ,  far  down  the  lonely  track" 

CHRISTIAN  FREDERICK  SCHWARTZ  was  born  at  Sonnenburg, 
Prussia,  Oct.  26,  1726,  and  educated  at  Halle.  He  went  as  a 
missionary  to  India  in  1750,  and  settled  at  Tranquebar,  on  the 
Coromandel  Coast.  After  fifteen  years  of  labor  in  a  Danish 
mission,  he  transferred  his  services  to  the  English  Society  for 
the  Diffusion  of  Christian  Knowledge.  He  died  at  Tanjore,  1798. 
He  was  peculiar  in  his  dress  and  habits,  —  wearing  a  black  dimity 
robe,  and  living  very  frugally  on  $250  a  year.  He  is  said  to  have 
been  of  winning  manners  and  of  intense  and  holy  devotion,  "  as 
courageous  as  John  the  Baptist,  and  his  own  life  a  pattern  of 
what  he  called  men  to."  When  he  died  he  was  greatly  lamented, 
Contemporary  with  him,  and  working  in  Bengal,  was  a  Swede, 
named  Zachariah  Kiernander,  who  went  in  1758  to  Calcutta,  at 
the  invitation  of  Lord  Clive,  where  he  did  some  missionary  labor, 
but  with  small  result. 


NOTES.  Ill 

NOTE  5,  p.  4. 

"  When  CAREY  sailed  from  Albion's  cliffs  away." 

WILLIAM  CAREY,  the  founder  and  pioneer  of  Baptist  Missions 
in  India,  was  born  in  the  village  of  Paulerspury,  Northamp 
tonshire,  England,  on  the  i?th  of  August,  1761.  His  childhood 
was  passed  in  humble  conditions  of  life,  little  removed  from  pov 
erty,  —  his  father  being  a  weaver,  although  he  was  promoted  to 
the  two  offices  of  parish  clerk  and  schoolmaster.  The  boy  was 
eager  and  enterprising ;  and  while  in  after  life  he  spoke  of  himself 
as  "  a  plodder,"  he  plodded  so  well  that  he  laid  the  foundations, 
and  eventually  built  the  structure,  of  a  great  and  memorable 
character. 

Brought  up  in  the  Established  Church,  in  early  manhood  he 
became  a  dissenter,  in  1783  was  baptized  by  one  of  the  Ryland 
brothers,  and  his  name  is  found  in  the  list  of  members  of  a  small 
church  at  Hackleton.  In  1786  he  became  a  settled  pastor  at 
Moulton,  where  he  relinquished  his  occupation  as  a  shoemaker 
(or  "  cobbler,"  as  Sydney  Smith  designated  him).  His  income  as 
a  preacher  was,  however,  inadequate  for  even  frugal  living,  and  he 
resumed  his  trade,  but  in  connection  with  his  ministry.  It  was  at 
Moulton  that  he  conceived  the  idea  of  foreign  evangelization ;  and 
so  deeply  was  he  impressed  with  the  duty  of  this  work,  that  he 
began  at  once  to  prepare  himself  and  others  for  the  then  extraor 
dinary  enterprise  of  sending  the  gospel  into  heathen  lands. 

Always  studious  of  books  when  he  could  obtain  them,  and  not 
less  of  Nature,  he  acquired  knowledge  rapidly,  and  had  a  not 
able  faculty  for  using  it  to  the  best  possible  advantage.  Andrew 
Fuller  relates  that  on  entering  his  shop  on  one  occasion,  he  found 
a  large  map  pasted  on  the  wall,  made  up  of  various  sheets  of 
paper,  upon  which  were  represented  all  known  countries  and 
notes  of  all  he  had  read  relative  to  their  condition. 

In  1789,  at  the  age  of  twenty-eight,  he  removed  to  Leicester, 


112  NOTES. 

maintaining  his  pastoral  and  mechanical  labors  diligently.  Here 
he  secured  the  friendship  of  Dr.  Arnold,  and  revelled  in  his  fine 
library.  Here  also  he  gave  attention  to  science,  and  laid  the 
foundations  of  his  future  botanical  fame,  which  colored  his  after 
life  in  Serampore.  The  missionary  idea  was  always  in  his  mind 
and  in  his  heart ;  and  with  the  co-operation  of  such  men  as  An 
drew  Fuller,  Samuel  Pearce,  and  the  younger  Ryland,  he  accom 
plished  the  formation  of  a  Missionary  Society  at  Kettering,  in 
1792.  To  a  subscription  which  was  taken  up,  and  which  amounted 
to  about  thirteen  pounds,  he  contributed  himself,  although  he  did 
not,  as  was  sensationally  reported,  do  this  by  "  stepping  into  the 
collection  plate." 

The  new  Society  did  not  at  the  outset  make  a  deep  impression 
upon  the  Baptist  churches  of  England.  The  great  city  especially 
disregarded  it,  for  its  lowly  birth-place.  Nevertheless  the  hand 
of  God  was  upon  it,  and  the  work,  though  hindered,  and  appar 
ently  baffled,  by  obstacles,  went  on ;  and  in  1 793  "  CAREY  sailed 
from.  Albion's  cliff's  away"  He  took  his  reluctant  wife  with  him, 
and  his  young  son  Felix  (who  was  at  Rangoon  when  the  JUDSONS 
arrived  there).  They  reached  Calcutta,  and  the  great  East  India 
Company  considered  their  expedition  too  insignificant  for  hostile 
notice.  The  knowledge  of  the  Bengali  language  was  the  first 
thing  to  be  attained ;  and  Ram  Ram  Bosu  was  secured  as  teacher, 
under  whose  tuition  CAREY  made  rapid  progress.  As  a  supposed 
help  to  his  success  in  his  mission  work,  he  undertook  the  superin 
tendence  of  an  indigo  factory  at  Mudnabatty ;  and  expecting  it  to 
be  self-supporting,  he  wrote  to  the  English  Missionary  Society 
that  while  he  would  do  their  mission  work  he  would  require  no 
pay  from  them. 

In  1796,  the  indigo  works  having  proved  unprofitable,  he  pro 
posed  the  organization  of  a  missionary  settlement  on  the  Mora 
vian  community  plan,  and  offered  to  "throw  his  income  and 
utensils  into  the  common  stock."  This  scheme  was  providentially 
delayed  and  defeated.  In  1799  the  indigo  works  were  given  up,  and 


NOTES.  113 

almost  coincidently  Messrs.  MARSHMAN  and  WARD,  and  others, 
with  their  wives,  reinforced  the  Mission;  and  soon  thereafter,  the 
East  India  Company  developing  hostility  to  their  settlement  in 
their  territory,  on  the  loth  of  January,  1800,  CAREY  joined  the 
Danish  Mission  settlement  at  Serampore,  a  sort  of  "  city  of  ref 
uge  "  for  all  disquieted  people.  It  was  a  pleasant  and  healthful 
place,  and  it  became  "  a  little  sanctuary  for  the  Mission,  and  a  cen 
tre  of  spiritual  light  and  influence  for  the  regions  round  about." 
Here  it  was  that  CAREY'S  grand  work  took  form  and  force.  The 
Bible  was  now  nearly  all  translated  into  Bengali,  and  the  printing 
of  it  began.  Boarding-schools  were  opened,  and  such  effective 
means  put  into  operation,  that  on  the  28th  December,  1800, 
Krishnu  Pal,  a  native  Hindoo,  was  baptized  in  the  Ganges, 
together  with  Felix  Carey,  while  other  natives  were  "  almost 
persuaded  "  to  follow  their  example.  Early  in  1801  the  New  Tes 
tament  was  printed  in  the  Bengali,  and  CAREY  laid  it  reverently 
on  the  communion  table  of  the  Serampore  church. 

For  thirty-four  years  after  the  settlement  at  Serampore,  Dr. 
CAREY  pursued  his  great  work  with  unfaltering  devotion  and  zeal. 
In  1829  suttee  was  abolished,  and  the  proclamation  declaring  it  to 
be  criminal  and  punishable  as  homicide  was  sent  to  Dr.  CAREY 
to  be  translated  into  Bengali.  The  order  reached  him  on  Sun 
day,  as  he  was  preparing  for  divine  service.  Throwing  off  his 
quaint  black  coat,  he  exclaimed,  "  No  church  for  me  to-day.  If  I 
delay  an  hour  to  translate  and  publish  this,  many  a  widow's  life 
may  be  sacrificed."  Resigning  his  pulpit  to  another,  he  summoned 
his  pundit,  and  completed  the  translation  by  sunset.  He  had 
pleaded  and  prayed  for  the  event  ever  since  he  reached  India,  and 
now  for  the  first  time  during  twenty  centuries  — 

"  The  Ganges  flowed  unblooded  to  the  sea." 

Many  years  before  the  abolition  of  suttee  and  child-drowning  in 
the  Ganges,  CAREY  had  sought  this  result,  and  hoped  indeed, 
very  early,  to  effect  it  through  Lord  Wellesley. 


114  NOTES. 

Great  troubles  and  depressing  disasters  befell  the  Mission  to 
ward  the  close  of  Dr.  CAREY'S  life,  but  the  brave-hearted  and  noble 
old  man  never  lost  his  faith  in  God,  and  never  abated  his  zeal  for 
the  salvation  of  the  heathen  about  him.  "  The  last  chord,"  says 
his  biographer,  "  that  vibrated  in  his  heart  was  gratitude  to  God 
and  His  people  for  the  favor  shown  to  India.  The  eternal  gates 
were  opened  for  him  at  sunrise,  June  9,  1834.  .  .  .  He  was  buried 
early  next  morning  in  the  Mission  burying-ground,  where  the  dust 
of  nearly  three  generations  of  native  converts  now  reposes." 

A  contemporary  wrote  thus  of  this  childlike  saint :  — 

"  Thou  'rt  in  our  heart  with  tresses  thin  and  gray, 

And  eye  that  knew  the  book  of  life  so  well, 
And  brow  serene  as  thou  wert  wont  to  stray 
Amidst  thy  flowers,  like  Adam  ere  he  fell." 

NOTE  6,  p.  4. 
"  And  suttee  altar-fires  no  longer  burn." 

The  horrid  funeral  rite  of  suttee  practised  so  long  in  India  was 
abolished  by  the  British  Government  in  the  year  1829,  by  the 
order  of  Lord  WILLIAM  BENTINCK,  then  Governor.  If  not 
ordained  by  Brahmin  law,  still  it  was  sanctioned  by  it ;  and  de 
termined  opposition  to  the  act  of  the  Government  was  made  by 
Bengal  Brahmins,  while  the  people  of  India  rejoiced  greatly  in 
its  enforcement.  It  is  said  that  after  the  British  power  was  firmly 
established  in  India  in  1756,  and  until  Lord  Bentinck's  decree  in 
1829,  not  fewer  than  seventy  thousand  widows  had  fallen  victims 
to  this  awful  immolation. 

NOTE  7,  p.  5. 
u Since  Sydney  thus  the  noble  CAREY  spurned" 

The  disesteem  in  which  foreign  missionary  efforts  were  re 
garded  in  their  origin  in  England  is  well  exemplified  and  em- 


NOTES.  115 

phasized  by  the  bitter  attack  made  upon  them  by  the  famous 
witty  parson,  Rev.  Sydney  Smith,  in  an  article  in  the  Edinburgh 
Revieiv  in  1808,  from  which  the  text  is  quoted.  In  1809  he  re 
newed  his  hostility,  and  took  credit  to  himself  for  "  routing  out  a 
nest  of  consecrated  cobblers,"  with  evident  reference  to  WILLIAM 
CAREY,  whom,  however,  he  had  not  succeeded  in  "  routing  out." 
His  language  in  this  article  is  likely  to  be  long  remembered : 
"  Our  charge  is  that  they  want  sense,  conduct,  and  sound  religion  ; 
and  that  if  they  are  not  watched,  the  throat  of  every  European  in 
India  will  be  cut." 

NOTE  8,  p.  5. 
"  Though  SOUTHEY  taught  —  as,  humbler,  he  had  learned" 

The  attack  of  Sydney  Smith  originated  discussion,  and  in  1809 
it  was  closed  by  an  elaborate  article  in  the  Quarterly  Review,  in 
which  Southey  glances  over  the  history  of  missions  to  India,  and 
particularly  of  those  of  the  Baptist  Missionary  Society;  and  nearly 
at  the  close  of  the  paper  he  says  :  "  These  low-born  and  low-bred 
mechanics  have  translated  the  whole  Bible  into  Bengali,  and  by 
this  time  have  printed  it.  They  are  printing  the  New  Testament 
in  the  Sanskrit,  the  Orissa,  Mahratta,  Hindostan,  and  Gazarat ; 
and  translating  it  into  Persic,  Talinga,  Karnata,  Chinese,  the  lan 
guage  of  the  Sieks  and  of  the  Burmans ;  and  in  four  of  these 
languages  they  are  going  on  with  the  Bible.  Extraordinary  as 
this  is,  it  will  appear  more  so  when  it  is  remembered  that  one  of 
these  men  was  originally  a  shoemaker,  another  a  printer  at  Hull, 
and  a  third  the  master  of  a  charity-school  at  Bristol." 


NOTE  9,  p.  5. 
"  From  lettering's  altar  England's  churches  caught,"  etc. 

At  Nottingham,  in  1792,  CAREY  preached  the  Association  Ser 
mon,  and  thereby  originated  the  Baptist  Missionary  Association. 


Il6  NOTES. 

The  power  of  the  discourse  (from  the  text  in  Isaiah  liv.  2,  3) 
was  such  that  at  the  close  of  the  assembly  a  resolution  was  passed 
to  have  presented  at  the  next  ministers'  meeting  at  Kettering, 
"  a  plan  for  the  establishment  of  a  society  for  propagating  the 
gospel  among  the  heathen."  At  Kettering,  Oct.  2,  1794,  twelve 
men  solemnly  pledged  themselves  to  God  and  to  each  other  for 
such  endeavor.  Of  these  men  were  William  Carey,  John  Ryland, 
and  Andrew  Fuller. 


NOTE  10,  p.  6. 

"  On  the  riide  billows  of  the  ocean  tossed, 
His  long  default  tossed  more  his  serious  mind." 

If  the  joint  determination  of  Dr.  and  Mrs.  JUDSON  to  connect 
themselves  with  the  Baptist  church  at  Calcutta  was  not  actually 
reached  by  them  during  the  voyages  which  preceded  their  arrival 
in  India,  there  can  be  no  question  that  the  mental  conflict  from 
which  that  decision  resulted  took  place  on  the  restless  bosom  of 
the  sea.  There,  too,  the  young  pair,  brought  up  in  the  fellowship 
of  a  noble  Evangelical  church  and  fondly  attached  to  its  com 
munion,  spent  much  time  in  discussion  as  to  their  duty,  Mrs. 
JUDSON  earnestly  contending  for  the  correctness  of  her  life-loved 
views,  even  when  her  husband  declared  his  conviction  that  they 
were  erroneous.  His  son's  testimony  on  this  point  is  emphatic. 
There  was  indeed  much  to  oppose  such  a  conclusion,  more  than 
others  can  truly  estimate.  The  sacrifice  they  must  make  was 
great  and  many-sided,  and  enough  to  appall  their  inexperience 
and  their  lonely  position.  Whether  Mrs.  JUDSON  was  decided  at 
sea  to  take  the  solemn  step  of  separation  with  him,  or  not,  they 
had  no  sooner  met  the  English  Baptists  at  Calcutta  than  they 
mutually  asked  for  baptism,  and  received  the  sacred  rite  at  the 
hands  of  Rev.  Mr.  Ward,  in  the  Baptist  chapel  at  Calcutta, 
Sept.  6,  1812. 


NOTES.  II? 

NOTE  ii,  p.  7. 
"  The  sponsors  lost  he  leaned  upon  before." 

The  young  missionaries  had  been  sent  out  by  the  American 
Board  of  Commissioners  for  Foreign  Missions,  and  were  depend 
ent  upon  that  great  Society  for  their  support  and  sympathy.  The 
first  of  these  essential  succors  they  could  not  hope  or  desire  to 
retain ;  and  the  consciousness  that  they  might  also  lose  the  latter 
by  the  strangeness  and-  suddenness  of  their  action,  and  indeed 
must  forfeit  it  at  least  for  the  time,  wrung  their  hearts  as  perhaps 
no  other  conviction  possibly  could.  They  were  without  sponsors, 
for  they  had  voluntarily  given  them  up.  To  human  sense  their 
condition  was  a  forlorn  one,  and  they  were  human  enough  to  feel 
this  to  their  hearts'  core.  It  is  not  to  be  wondered  at  that  the 
American  Board  and  the  large  body  of  Christians  it  represented 
took  the  surprising  occurrence  to  heart,  and  regarded  it  at  first 
wholly  on  the  human  side.  Reproaches  and  condemnation  were 
visited  upon  the  poor  friendless  pair,  who  had  thus  "  deserted  their 
flag  and  their  friends."  It  was  indeed  an  anomalous  and  alarm 
ing  crisis  for  them,  but  they  knew,  in  the  closest  access  of  their 
pain  and  grief,  that  they  had  not  deserted  their  best  Friend  ;  and 
this  the  sequel  most  strikingly,  yea,  marvellously,  demonstrated. 
God  had  great  designs  to  carry  out  through  this  wilful  defection 
of  theirs,  as  it  was  in  itself,  and  for  a  time  was  so  regarded  and 
censured  by  those  whom  it  offended  and  aggrieved. 


NOTE  12,  p.  7. 
"  And  gathered  there  a  broad  and  zealous  band." 

The  almost  immediate  organization  of  an  American  Baptist 
Missionary  Society  followed  the  reception  of  the  startling  tid 
ings  of  the  baptism  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  JUDSON  at  Calcutta.  It  was 
interpreted  by  the  American  churches  as  a  direct  call  upon  them 


Il8  NOTES. 

from  the  Great  Head  of  the  Church  to  engage  earnestly  in  the 
work  of  sending  the  gospel  to  the  heathen,  and  of  taking  the 
devoted  missionaries  now  on  the  field,  and  mutely  appealing  to 
them  for  fostering  care  and  loving  sympathy,  under  their  wing. 
This  was  done  with  glowing  enthusiasm,  and  the  great  American 
Baptist  Missionary  Union  of  to-day  is  the  outgrowth  of  that  first 
Baptist  Missionary  Society  formed  on  this  continent.  Into  its 
hands  exclusively  Burma  has  fallen  for  the  duty  of  its  evangeliza 
tion  ;  and  a  wonderful  degree  of  prosperity  has  crowned  the  work, 
with  continually  increasing  fruits  in  the  multiplication  of  stations, 
the  extensive  formation  of  churches,  the  employment  of  native 
missionaries,  and  the  establishment  of  Christian  schools,  colleges, 
and  theological  seminaries  within  the  shadow  of  lofty  pagodas 
and  gilded  zayats. 

NOTE  13,  p.  8. 
"  Nor  soft  resentment  in  their  bosoms  dwelt." 

Unwelcome  as  the  tidings  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  JUDSON'S  change 
of  denominational  views,  and  of  their  union  with  the  Baptist 
church  at  Calcutta,  undoubtedly  was  at  first  to  the  great  Society 
which  had  sent  them  out  under  its  auspices,  and  equally  to  all  the 
members  of  the  Congregational  churches,  —  to  whom  it  appeared 
almost  a  dereliction  of  duty,  —  the  feeling  thus  excited  gradually 
softened;  and  as  the  evident  leading  of  Divine  Providence  in  the 
change  became  apparent,  thanksgiving  to  God  for  the  augmen 
tation  of  force  and  zeal  on  the  heathen  field,  and  of  Christian 
enthusiasm  at  home,  took  the  place  of  resentment  and  even  of 
regret,  until  to-day  he  whose  defection  grieved  and  offended 
them  is  honored  and  beloved  and  extolled,  as  no  other  servant 
of  God  in  the  broad  annals  of  modern  missionary  service  has 
ever  been.  At  the  departure,  in  September,  1888,  from  Boston, 
of  a  group  of  missionaries,  —  same  returning  to  the  Burman  field 
and  others  going  out  for  the  first  time  —  farewell  services  were 
held ;  and  on  the  interesting  occasion  the  Rev.  Dr.  Thompson,  of 


NOTES.  119 

the  American  Board  of  Commissioners  for  Foreign  Missions, 
made  a  touching  and  eloquent  address  of  congratulation,  in  which 
he  declared  the  universal  love  and  honor,  extended  by  all  con 
nected  with  that  great  body,  for  JUDSON  and  his  successors  in 
Burma.  This  is  doubtless  true  of  all  evangelical  denominations 
throughout  all  lands.  The  courageous  sacrifice  of'  the  JUDSONS 
has  truly  been  owned  and  honored  of  God. 


NOTE  14,  p.  8. 

"  That  famous  guild  of  commerce  and  of  might, 
Which  ruled  the  Eastern  Indies  by  its  arm." 

The  hostility  of  the  East  India  Company,  which  in  that  early 
period  of  British  conquest  and  dominion  in  India  really  repre 
sented  the  Government,  was  due  probably  to  the  apprehension, 
largely  felt,  that  the  efforts  of  Christian  missionaries  to  break  up 
caste,  and  to  replace  the  idolatrous  rites  of  Brahminism  and 
Buddhism  with  those  of  the  Christian  religion,  would  so  inflame 
the  hatred  of  the  native  princes  and  priests,  that  the  new  authority 
would  be  greatly  imperilled  and  doubtless  obstructed,  if  not  over 
thrown.  This  apprehension,  if  ever  of  great  force,  was  speedily 
overcome  and  banished  by  the  interposition  of  Providential  events ; 
and  for  sixty  years  past  the  British  flag  has  afforded  its  protection 
to  missionaries  wherever  it  has  waved,  and  its  prestige  was 
their  help  throughout  imperial  Burma. 


NOTE  15,  p.  9. 
"  Seen  in  his  tortuous  course  to  that  dark  land." 

Receiving  from  the  American  Board  of  Commissioners  for 
Foreign  Missions  an  appointment  as  their  missionary  to  the  East, 
Mr.  JUDSON  sailed,  with  Mrs.  JUDSON  and  Mrs.  Harriet  Newell, 
from  Salem,  Mass.,  for  Calcutta.  The  voyage  occupied  four 


120  NOTES. 

months.  They  were  warmly  welcomed  by  Dr.  Carey,  who  was 
stationed  at  Serampore,  only  a  few  miles  distant.  Five  months 
later  he  and  his  wife  fled  from  expected  arrest  by  the  East  India 
Company,  which  had  ordered  him  to  sail  for  England,  and  took 
passage  privately  for  the  Isle  of  France,  having  been  refused 
permission  to  make  the  voyage.  While  sailing  down  the  Hoogly 
River  they  were  overtaken  by  a  Government  vessel,  and  forbidden 
to  proceed.  Soon,  however,  they  were  provided,  without  knowing 
by  whom,  with  a  passport  to  their  desired  haven,  and  were  fortu 
nate  enough  to  overtake  the  ship  from  which  they  had  been 
landed.  • 

At  St.  Louis  they  heard  of  the  death  of  Mrs.  Harriet  Newell, 
who  sailed  with  them  from  Salem,  and  had  just  been  buried  on 
the  Isle  of  France.  Here  they  spent  four  months  laboring  among 
the  English  sailors  of  the  garrison,  not  less  eager,  however,  to 
pursue  their  voyage  to  the  coast  of  India.  They  sailed  then  for 
Madras,  hoping  to  establish  a  mission-post  on  Prince  of  Wales 
Island.  At  Madras  they  came  again  under  the  control  of  the 
East  India  Company,  and  finding  there  no  ship  to  sail  for  the 
Island,  and  fearing  immediate  exile  to  England,  they  determined 
to  sail  —  though  in  a  crazy  old  vessel  —  for  the  port  of  Rangoon, 
in  Burma,  though  dreading  to  pass  from  the  protection  of  the 
English  flag  into  the  power  of  a  heathen  despot.  They  had  a 
stormy  passage  to  the  Burman  sea-port,  and  Mrs.  JUDSON"  was  so 
ill  on  their  arrival  there  that  she  had  to  be  carried  on  shore. 
This  tortuous  course  occupied  altogether  seventeen  months.  At 
Rangoon  they  joined. the  Mission  conducted  by  Felix  Carey,  the 
son  of  Dr.  Carey  of  Serampore. 

NOTE  16,  p.  10. 
"  Their  sad,  sole  fruitage,  —  endless  sleep  at  last." 

This  note  might  perhaps  be  more  fitly  placed  in  connection 
with  the  phrase,  "  Nigban's  shadowy  realm,"  in  the  next  stanza 
but  one,  for  they  are  broadly  synonymous.  "  Nigban,"  or  "  Nir- 


NOTES..  121 

vana,"  is  the  end,  the  consummation,  the  crown,  to  which  the 
purest  Buddhist  aspires ;  and  it  is  attained,  if  at  all,  only  after 
innumerable  transmigrations  and  transformations  of  the  votary. 
When  attained,  it  is  perhaps  well  defined  by  the  expression, 
"endless  sleep."  It  is  certainly,  despite  of  all  glosses  of  inter 
pretation  and  definition,  a  state  of  cessation  from  conscious  be 
ing  ;  and  the  phrase  which  Dr.  JUDSON  employed  as  its  synonyme 
—  "a  blowing  out "  —  seems  to  us,  after  a  careful  review  of  many 
vague  and  often  contradictory  opinions  by  the  commentators  on 
Buddhism,  and  especially  on  this  condition,  its  supreme  attain 
ment,  to  be  the  best,  as  it  is  the  briefest.  Much  objection  is 
made  by  learned  writers,  and  especially  by  writers  more  or  less 
in  sympathy  with  what  they  deem  the  grandeur  of  Buddha's  phi 
losophy,  against  the  absolute  and  awful  negation  of  immortality 
which  "  Nirvana "  is  charged  with  involving ;  but  the  historic 
record  of  the  death  of  "  Siddartha  "  makes  him  declare  the  non 
entity  of  past,  present,  and  future.  The  fearful  succession  of 
horrors  which  a  Buddhist  votary  must  pass  through  for  almost 
interminable  ages  of  time  to  reach  Nigban  at  last  may  perhaps 
prepare  him  to  welcome  the  barely  possible  realization  of  final 
extinction,  —  of  being  "blown  out"  as  an  expired  candle. 


NOTE  17,  p.  10. 
"/«  vain  the  Palm-leaves  noble  doctrines  teach" 

We  are  indebted  to  Rev.  W.  F.  THOMAS,  of  the  Sandoway 
Mission,  for  the  following  concise  and  yet  comprehensive  note  on 
the  term  employed  in  the  text,  to  explain  its  significance  in  con 
nection  with  Buddhist  creeds.  It  is  more  musical  in  the  verse 
than  the  term  "  Bee-di-gat."  He  furnished  it  to  us  just  as  he  was 
about  to  return  to  his  field  of  sacred  toil :  — 

"The  sacred  writings  of  the  Buddhist  religion  are  usually 
scratched  on^  strips  of  palm-leaf.  These  are  fastened  together 
between  board  covers,  which  are  often  highly  ornamented.  A 


122  NOTES. 

number  of  these  crude  volumes  are  generally  packed  together 
in  a  basket,  three  of  which  are  required  to  contain  a  complete 
summary  of  the  Buddhist  cult.  Hence  may  have  arisen  the  name 
Pitika  (Bee-di-gat  in  Burma),  or  Tri-pitika,  meaning  'baskets,'  or 
'  three  baskets,'  applied  to  the  three  divisions  embracing  the  whole 
range  of  Buddhist  literature." 


NOTE  18,  p.  ii. 
"  Siddartha' s  pictured  grace,  on  Arnold's  page." 

The  founder  of  Buddhism  is  called  Gautama,  Siddartha,  or 
Buddh.  The  first  of  these  is  the  name  of  the  family  from  which 
he  sprung ;  Siddartha,  his  own  individual  name ;  and  Buddha, 
"  the  enlightened  one,"  the  surname  he  acquired  by  his  wisdom. 
It  is  believed  that  he  was  born  about  five  centuries  B.  c.,  at  Kap- 
ilvasta,  near  the  foothills  of  the  Himalayas,  and  a  few  days'  jour 
ney  from  Benares.  His  father  was  an  Indian  prince,  of  the  tribe 
of  Sakyas,  and  Siddartha  was  brought  up  in  the  lap  of  luxury.  Of 
a  gentle  and  pensive  disposition,  he  was  carefully  kept  from  any 
knowledge  of  human  misery  until  he  discovered  it  of  himself ; 
and  learning  that  sorrow  and  death  are  the  common  destiny  of 
all  men,  he  then  resolves  to  go  forth  as  a  homeless  wanderer  to 
seek  out  the  way  of  deliverance  from  this  doom  for  himself  and 
his  fellows.  At  first  a  Brahmin  ascetic,  he  seeks  pains  and  pen 
alties  ;  but  relinquishing  this  quest,  he  meditates  beneath  the  Bo- 
tree,  and  there  discovers  the  way  of  salvation  from  the  common 
doom.  Then  for  half  a  century  he  travels  far  and  wide,  preaches 
his  doctrines,  and  gathers  a  multitude  of  disciples ;  and  at  length 
returns  to  his  home,  where  he  lives  to  a  great  age,  and  dies 
breathing  as  his  latest  words,  "  There  is  nothing  real,  nothing 
durable."  This  is  the  key-note  of  Buddhism. 


NOTES.  123 


NOTE  19,  p.  n. 

"  So,  from  the  bright  romance,  our  eyes  decline 
To  Paufs  dark  portrait  of  the  heathen  race." 

See  Paul's  Epistle  to  the  Romans,  i.  21-32. 


NOTE  20,  p.  13. 
"  And  seeking  him  who  taught  it  more  to  teach" 

The  teacher  employed  by  Dr.  JUDSON  as  his  instructor  in  the 
Burmese  was  a  learned  Buddhist,  and  had  been  a  priest.  Much 
discussion  of  a  religious  nature  arose  between  them  during  study, 
and  an  interesting  report  of  such  a  conversation  is  given  in  Dr. 
Wayland's  "  Memoirs  of  Dr.  Judson,"  vol.  i.  pp.  171-174.  This 
teacher  was  "a  venerable-looking  man  in  his  sixtieth  year." 

NOTE  21,  p.  17. 
"  A  Christian  zayat  stands,  complete  and  fair." 

A  Buddhist  zayat  is  especially,  but  not  exclusively,  a  place  for 
worship,  and  the  name  was  adopted  by  JUDSON  as  appropriate 
to  the  uses  of  the  Mission.  In  Rangoon,  and  other  places,  zayats 
were  built  as  soon  as  it  was  deemed  safe.  Many  heathen  zayats 
are  elegant  if  yet  fanciful  structures,  and  they  are  open  at  all 
times  for  heathen  offerings  to  the  idols.  The  first  Christian  zayat 
built  in  Burma  was  that  referred  to  in  the  verse.  It  was  destroyed 
in  the  Pegu-an  War,  but  rebuilt. 


124  NOTES. 

NOTE  22,  p.  17. 
"  When  Burma's  first  disciple  of  the  Cross." 

This  was  a  young  man  named  Moung  Nau.  This  prefix,  Moung, 
expresses  youth.  That  of  Ko,  advanced  manhood.  Oo  is  the 
title  of  an  old  man.  The  prefixes  Mee,  Mah,  and  May,  indicate 
respectively  a  girl,  a  mature  woman,  and  an  old  woman. 

NOTE  23,  p.  22. 
"  Vain  hope!     There  beamed  ^lpon  the  "  golden  face." 

The  term  "  golden  "  was  used  to  characterize  all  the  features 
and  belongings  of  the  King  and  the  Throne  ;  and  was  also  applied 
to  the  city  where  the  Throne  happened  to  be.  Hence  the  ex 
pressions  in  the  verse,  "golden  feet,"  "golden  face,"  etc. 

NOTE  24,  p.  26. 
"  Known  of  twinned  names  which  in  high  honor  yield" 

The  arrival  of  the  beloved  recruits,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  WADE,  was 
an  occasion  of  inexpressible  comfort  and  delight  to  Dr.  JUDSON, 
and  gave  a  new  aspect  and  impulse  to  the  great  work.  They 
reached  Amherst  Nov.  23,  1826,  a  month  after  the  death  of  Mrs. 
JUDSON. 

NOTE  25,  p.  26. 
"  Great  work  the  tireless  Yiidathan  had  wrought" 

The  name  "  Yiidathan  "  was  the  nearest  approach  to  the  English 
pronunciation  of  the  Teacher's  name  of  which  the  Burmese  tongue 
was  capable,  and  it  was  sounded  chiefly  as  if  of  three  syllables, 
producing  a  musical  and  pleasing  effect. 


NOTES.  125 

NOTE  26,  p.  27. 
"  A  home  was  ready  there,  as  in  a  dream" 

Of  the  building  of  this  house,  Mrs.  JUDSON  wrote  thus:  "We 
had  but  one  alternative,  —  to  remain  in  the  boat  till  we  could 
build  a  small  house  on  the  spot  of  ground  which  the  King  gave 
Mr.  JUDSON.  And  you  will  hardly  believe  it  possible — for  I 
almost  doubt  my  senses  — that  in  just  a  fortnight  from  our  arrival 
we  moved  into  a  house  built  in  that  time,  and  which  is  sufficiently 
large  to  make  us  comfortable." 

NOTE  27,  p.  27. 
"  Bandoola's  troops  flung  forth  the  flag  of  war" 

Bandoola  was  the  only  one  of  the  Burmese  generals  who  led 
his  troops  to  victory  in  the  war  between  England  and  Burma, 
which  resulted  at  last  so  disastrously  to  the  Avan  King.  He  had 
gained  slight  successes  in  the  British  province  of  Arracan,  and 
had  sent  at  one  time  tlrree  hundred  prisoners  to  the  golden  city 
as  an  evidence  of  victory.  "  The  King  began  to  think  that  none 
but  Bandoola  understood  the  art  of  fighting  with  foreigners.  Con 
sequently  his  majesty  recalled  him  from  Arracan  with  the  design 
of  his  taking  command  of  the  army  that  had  been  sent  to  Ran 
goon.  On  his  arrival  at  Ava,  he  was  received  at  court  in  the 
most  flattering  manner,  and  was  the  recipient  of  every  favor  in 
the  power  of  the  King  and  Queen  to  bestow.  He  was,  in  fact, 
while  at  Ava  the  acting  king."  His  expedition  to  Rangoon  was  an 
utter  failure.  He  escaped  to  Dan-a-byoo  with  the  loss  of  his  army 
and  ammunition,  producing  great  consternation  at  court. 


126  NOTES. 


NOTE  28,  p.  28. 

"Meanwhile  the  'golden  city'  flushed  with  pride, 
To  its  new  palace  welcomed  back  the  King." 

The  "new  palace  "was  built  in  the  "golden  city,"  which  had 
alternated  with  Amarapoora  (about  six  miles  distant),  as  the  royal 
capital.  The  old  King  had  occupied  the  latter,  but  now  a  new 
and  beautiful  palace  was  built  at  Ava,  and  of  this  the  royal 
household  were  to  take  possession,  coming  in  state  from  Amara 
poora  for  that  purpose.  The  verses  of  the  poem  convey  but 
a  very  inadequate  idea  of  the  splendor  of  the  pageant  which 
attended  the  taking  possession  of  the  costly  structure. 

NOTE  29,  p.  30. 
"  The  '  spotted 'face'  of  Death's  stern  servitor." 

The  executioner  of  the  prison  at  Ava,  called  the  "  death  prison," 
was,  like  all  the  "  keepers,"  a  branded  criminal.  These  are  called 
"  children  of  the  prison,"  and  are  a  distinct  and  very  degraded 
order,  and  excluded  from  all  other  classes.  To  see  the  "  spotted 
face,"  or  the  "  spotted  man,"  was  a  visfcn  dreaded  as  the  pre 
monition  of  death. 

NOTE  30,  p.  31. 
"  And  thine, '  through  deaths  oft '  (e'en  as  PauFs  before) ." 

See  Paul's  Second  Epistle  to  the  Corinthians,  xi.  23. 

NOTE  31,  p.  31. 
"  That  threatened  peril  to  th'  imperial  state." 

A  year  before  the  war  the  King  had  received  from  some  for 
eigner  the  present  of  a  noble  lion,  for  which  he  entertained  a  very 


NOTES.  127 

high  regard,  and  caused  him  to  be  attended  with  special  care. 
In  the  alarm  that  the  war  excited,  and  especially  in  view  of  the  de 
feat  and  disgrace  of  Bandoola,  it  was  whispered  that,  as  the  British 
bore  a  lion  on  their  standard,  it  was  probable  that  the  noble  beast 
which  the  King  petted  was  a  demoniac  ally  of  the  English  troops. 
An  ignorant,  brutal  fellow,  the  brother  of  the  Queen,  was  the  in 
stigator  of  the  rumors,  and  they  produced  their  natural  effect  upon 
superstitious  minds.  The  King  made  light  of  the  whispers  and 
strange  glances  that  were  heard  and  seen  about  the  cage  of  the 
kingly  beast.  At  length,  however,  he  gave  consent  to  the  im 
prisonment  in  the  death  prison  of  the  "  suspect,"  but  ordered 
that  he  should  not  be  slain  without  his  command.  The  Queen's 
brother  gave  secret  directions  that  he  should  not  be  fed.  The 
story  of  the  slow  and  terrible  process  of  starvation  which  resulted 
in  the  death  of  the  tortured  animal  is  related  by  Mrs.  JUDSON  in 
her  account  of  the  death  prison,  and  is  a  very  harrowing  tale. 
When,  at  last,  the  raving  and  roaring  of  the  poor  beast  ended, 
and  the  cage  stood  empty  in  the  prison  yard,  Mrs.  JUDSON  suc 
ceeded  in  obtaining  permission  to  make  of  it  a  room  for  her  hus 
band,  which  was  sumptuous  in  comparison  with  his  cell  in  the 
prison.  This  permission,  refused  by  " the  cat"  as  the  head  jailer 
was  called,  was  granted  by  the  "  governor  "  of  the  prison. 


NOTE  32,  p.  32. 

"  A  cruel,  traitor otis  pakan-zuoon  had  gained, 
By  subtlety  and  fraud,  the  Emperor's  ear." 

The  pakan-woon  and  lamine-woon  were  officials,  not  of  state 
but  of  communities,  similar  perhaps  to  the  mayors  of  cities  and 
towns  among  us,  though  invested  with  more  power  than  these, 
and  using  it  in  a  very  arbitrary  and  often  lawless  manner.  The 
woon-gyee  was  a  state  officer. 


128  NOTES. 

NOTE  33,  p.  32. 
"  And  tithed  the  ticals  gathered  for  their  pay  " 

The  tical  is  a  Siamese  coin,  but  has  currency  in  Burma.  Its 
value  differs  very  little  from  that  of  the  rupee,  and  may  be  reck 
oned,  with  allowance  for  its  changing  value,  at  an  average  half- 
dollar.  It  is  described  as  a  bean-shaped  piece  of  silver.  Small 
transactions  in  money  are  sometimes  made  by  cutting  sheets  of 
lead  and  silver,  or  their  alloys,  into  pieces,  which  go  by  their 
weight. 

NOTE  34,  p.  32. 
"  The  scene  is  shifted  now  to  Oung-pen-la." 

The  little  village,  or  hamlet,  of  Oung-pen-la  is  situated  a  few 
miles  only  from  the  "  golden  city,"  but  was  reached  from  the  hot, 
sandy  shore  of  the  Irawaddy  by  a  track  of  about  four  miles  in 
a  rude  cart.  It  was  destitute  of  any  shops  or  any  conveniences 
for  the  comfort  of  visitors,  whether  voluntary  or  constrained,  and 
leaves  upon  the  reader's  mind  the  impression  of  desolateness. 
The  name  was  itself  a  terror  to  prisoners  sent  from  Ava. 

NOTE  35,  p.  34. 
"  To  Amarapoora  and  its  lamine-woon," 

The  lamine-woon,  like  the  pakan-woon,  was  a  sort  of  municipal 
officer.  It  woilld  seem  that  there  were  a  few  drops  of  the  milk 
of  human  kindness  in  the  bosom  of  the  chief  of  Amarapoora, 
into  whose  hands  the  missionaries  fell,  for  he  permitted  Mrs. 
JUDSON  and  her  attendants  to  go  to  Oung-pen-la. 


A'OTES.  129 


NOTE  36,  p.  36. 

"  Till  o'er  the  hamlet  by  transmission  stole 
The  hateful  ill  in  sequence  sure  but  mild" 

The  process  of  inoculation,  as  a  mitigation  of  that  terrible 
malady,  the  small-pox,  was  introduced  into  England  a  hundred 
and  fifty  years  ago,  and  was  not  entirely  superseded  by  vaccina 
tion  in  the  first  quarter  of  the  present  century.  Its  use  was  advo 
cated  as  a  certain  alleviator  of  the  attack  of  the  malady,  and  the 
remarkable  application  of  it  by  the  heroic  missionary  wife  at 
Oung-pen-la  was  the  best  resource  she  had,  and  fortunately  proved 
exceedingly  beneficial. 


NOTE  37,  p.  37. 
"  That  dreadful  march  from  Let-ma-yoorfs  felt  gate." 

Let-ma-yoon  is  the  name  of  the  otherwise-called  "  death  prison ' 
at  Ava.  Its  meaning  is  very  expressive,  implying  the  hopeless 
•character  of  the  confinement  within  its  walls.  It  signifies,  by  its 
succession  of  monosyllables  (each  of  them  being  a  distinct  word, 
which  is  characteristic  of  the  Burmese  language),  "Hand,  shrink 
not"  Ava's  place  of  death  was  indeed  well  named.] 

NOTE  38,  p.  40. 
"  With  fevered  strength  she  gained  her  medicine-chest."    - 

When  Mrs.  JUDSON  followed  her  husband  to  Oung-pen-la,  she 
left  in  the  mission-house  all  her  household  goods,  save  only  those 
which,  retained  from  the  first  confiscation  of  her  effects,  were 
still  in  the  keeping  of  the  authorities.  Among  these  was  her 
invaluable  medicine-chest ;  and  the  recovery  of  this  on  her  en- 

9 


130  NOTES. 

forced  visit  to  her  home  in  Ava  occasioned  her  much  anxiety  and 
trouble,  and  probably  she  would  not  have  secured  it  but  for  the 
kind  feeling  of  the  governor  of  the  North-gate,  who  had  before 
shown  her  much  favor  and  a  true  sympathy. 


NOTE  39,  p.  40. 
"  But  still  the  clumsy  cart-wheel  blocks  must  creep," 

Mrs.  JUDSON  refers  to  this  terrible  journey  in  her  description 
of  their  life  at  Ava  and  Oung-pen-la,  and  says :  — 

"  You  may  form  some  idea  of  a  Burmese  cart  when  I  tell 
you  that  its  wheels  are  not  constructed  like  ours,  but  are  simply 
round,  thick  planks  with  a  hole  in  the  middle,  through  which  is 
thrust  a  pole  that  supports  the  body." 

» 

NOTE  40,  p.  41. 

"  A  faithful  fellow  he,  guardian  and  cook.'" 

Of  the  service  and  fidelity  of  this  Brahmin  servant  Mrs.  JUDSON 
herself  says,  in  a  letter  to  her  brother :  "  A  common  Bengalee 
cook  will  do  nothing  but  the  simple  business  of  cooking ;  but  he 
seemed  to  forget  his  caste,  and  almost  his  own  wants,  in  his 
efforts  to  serve  us.  He  would  provide,  cook,  and  carry  your 
brother's  food  and  then  take  care  of  me.  I  have  frequently 
known  him  not  to  taste  of  food  till  near  midnight,  in  consequence 
of  having  to  go  so  far  for  food  and  water,  and  in  order  to  have 
Mr.  'JUDSON's  dinner  ready  at  the  usual  hour.  He  never  com 
plained,  never  asked  for  his  wages,  and  never  for  a  moment  hesi 
tated  to  go  anywhere  or  to  perform  any  act  we  required.  I  take 
great  pleasure  in  speaking  of  the  faithful  conduct  of  this  servant, 
who  is  still  with  us  and,  I  trust,  has  been  well  rewarded  for  his 
services." 


NOTES.  131 

It  is  our  delightful  privilege  to  add  to  this  testimony  the  grate 
ful  fact  that  after  ten  years  of  such  devotion  this  noble  fellow 
gave  evidence  of  true  conversion  to  Christianity,  and  was  bap 
tized  by  Dr.  JUDSON. 

NOTE  41,  p.  41. 

"  Two  months  within  that  stifling  chamber  lay 
The  mother's  form  upon  the  paddy  heap." 

The  reader  is  already  aware  that  the  little  room  Mrs.  JUDSON 
and  her  girls  occupied  in  the  jailer's  house  was  half  filled  with 
rice  in  the  husk,  over  which  mats  and  wraps  were  spread  for 
sleeping.  This  unhusked  rice  is  the  "  paddy  "  of  Burma. 

NOTE  42,  p.  42. 
"  That  they  to  BuddK's  first  Hell  by  fire  should  go." 

The  Buddhist  religion  recognizes  eight  principal  hells,  of 
which  the  first  four  are  governed  by  heat,  and  the  second  four 
by  cold.  Besides  these  there  are  numerous  lesser  hells ;  sixteen, 
indeed,  are  said  to  surround  each  of  the  superior  hells,  — making 
in  all  an  aggregate  of  one  hundred  and  thirty-six  of  these  places 
of  torment.  From  some  of  these  hells  there  is  no  deliverance, 
as  in  the  case  of  great  criminals.  From  others,  and  perhaps  the 
greater  number  of  them,  deliverance  may  come  after  immense 
periods  of  endurance  of  indescribable  tortures,  through  "merits" 
while  under  penalty.  In  such  cases  the  victim  may  enter,  on  his 
deliverance,  upon  a  new  existence  by  transmigration,  and  may 
become  an  insect,  a  bird,  a  reptile;  and,  through  successive  trans 
formations,  may  attain  the  character  of  a  not,  which  is  a  spirit. 
The  periods  of  existence  in  successive  transmigrations  are  of 
great  length.  The  severest  penalties  are  attached  to  disrespect 
of  the  priesthood  and  atrocious  crimes  generally.  The  "  brazen 
hell,"  to  which  reference  is  made  in  the  poem  as  the  fate  of  the 
unhappy  pakan-woon  who  defrauded  his  soldiers  and  lost  in 


132  NOTES. 

battle  the  stronghold  of  Pugan,  is  described  as  a  vast  caldron 
of  molten  brass,  the  descent  of  the  victim  to  the  bottom  of  which 
requires  a  period  of  three  thousand  years,  and  for  the  return 
ascent  to  the  surface  a  similar  fearful  term  of  years.  The  de 
scriptions  given  in  Buddhist  books  of  the  experiences  of  victims 
in  the  various  hells  are  too  revolting  to  be  minutely  repeated. 
They  are,  however,  distinctly  and  emphatically  demonstrative  of 
the  Buddhist  belief  in  prolonged  existence  and  also  in  retribution. 


NOTE  43,  p.  44. 
"  No  smile  to  greet  him  at  Malawi's  war-gate." 

Maloun  was  the  camping-place  of  the  Burman  forces  on  the 
Irawaddy.  It  was  stormed  by  the  British  forces  on  the  igth  of 
January,  1826,  a  month  before  the  treaty  of  peace  was  signed  at 
Yandabo. 

NOTE  44,  p.  45. 
"  Five  million  rupees  —  the  redemption  fee  !  " 

The  rupee  is  a  coin  of  varying  value,  according  to  its  local  coin 
age.  The  present  commercial  value  in  our  exchanges  is  about 
forty  cents,  but  it  is  safe  to  estimate  it  at  fifty  cents.  The  depre 
ciation  of  silver  has  wrought  a  change  in  its  market  worth.  The 
amount  therefore  demanded  by  the  English  commander  from  the 
Emperor  of  Ava,  as  the  condition  of  safety  to  the  "  golden  city," 
may  be  stated  at  nearly  two  and  a  half  million  dollars  ! 

NOTE  45,  p.  47. 

"  Came,  with  the  envoys,  slight  encouragement, 
In  easier  terms  the  hundred  lacs  to  pay." 

A  lac  of  rupees  is  one  hundred  thousand,  and  at  that  time  was 
equivalent  to  about  forty-five'  thousand  dollars. 


NOTES.  133 

NOTE  46,  p.  55. 
"  Forged  by  A  lam fr a' s  prowess  and  renown." 

Alampra,  whose  truer  name  was  Aloung  Pra,  was  the  most  cele 
brated  warrior  king  in  Burman  history.  About  the  middle  of  the 
eighteenth  century,  the  Pegu-ans,  who  had  been  in  subjection  to  the 
Kingdom  of  Ava  for  a  long  period,  broke  the  yoke  and  resumed 
their  independence.  They  did  not,  however,  long  maintain  it,  for 
Alampra  gathered  a  large  army,  and  made  effective  war  upon  the 
revolted  province,  which  he  brought,  with  a  number  of  neighboring 
provinces,  into  his  own  dynasty.  The  attempt  of  the  Pegu-ans, 
during  the  British  War  with  Ava  in  1824,  to  regain  their  independ 
ence  was  ineffectual,  though  it  involved  the  Mission  interest  in 
Rangoon,  while  that  port  was  invested  by  the  enemy,  in  disaster. 
The  Pegu-ans  are  the  people  now  known  as  the  Taligns,  among 
whom  the  missionaries  are  laboring  with  great  success. 

NOTE  47,  p.  57. 

"  Into  the  mission  treasury  hence  he  told 
The  generous  gains  his  civic  service  won." 

The  Board  of  Managers  of  the  Missionary  Union,  acting  upon 
suggestions  made  to  them  by  Dr.  JUDSON,  in  1826,  as  to  the  fiscal 
relations  of  missionaries  to  the  Society,  adopted  the  same  without 
modification.  Dr.  Wayland,  in  his  Memoir,  says  :  — 

"  In  consequence  of  this  decision,  Dr.  JUDSON  made  over  to  the 
Board  five  thousand  two  hundred  rupees, — the  sum  allowed  him 
by  the  Governor  General  in  council,  in  consideration  of  his  services 
at  the  treaty  of  Yandabo,  and  as  a  member  of  the  embassy  to 
Ava ;  and  also  two  thousand  rupees,  the  avails  of  presents  made 
to  him  at  Ava.  This  was  frequently  spoken  of  as  a  donation  to 
the  Mission.  He,  however,  never  so  considered  it.  In  conveying  it 


134  NOTES. 

to  the  Board  he  acted  only  in  conformity  with  the  principles  he 
had  adopted,  and  by  which  he  believed  every  missionary  should 
be  governed.  If  he  had  retained  it,  no  one  could  have  found 
just  cause  of  complaint;  for  during  these  months  little  could 
have  been  done  for  the  Mission.  He  appreciated,  however,  the 
value  of  the  principle,  and  refused  to  receive  any  higher  remunera 
tion  than  was  received  by  his  brethren,  considering  all  the 
surplus  the  rightful  property  of  the  Mission." 


NOTE  48,  p.  59. 
"  When  one  half  more  the  sun  had  run  his  round." 

The  scientific  reader  will  doubtless  smile  at  the  introduction 
of  a  note  aiming  to  disembarrass  the  mind  of  any  one  who  may 
not  at  once  perceive  that  this  verse  refers  to  the  apparent  mo 
tion  of  the  sun  through  the  signs  of  the  Zodiac,  which  is  only  by 
a  poet's  license  synonymous  with  the  simpler  expression,  —  six 
months  later. 

NOTE  49,  p.  59. 
"  The  Teacher  made  Maulmain  his  fixed  abode" 

Dr.  JUDSON  and  the  English  Civil  Commissioner,  Mr.  Craw- 
furd,  had  gone  up  the  beautiful  Salwen  River  to  select  a  site  for 
the  new  capital  of  the  province  ceded  to  England  by  the  Yan- 
dabo  treaty.  The  result  of  their  expedition  was  the  choice  of 
a  location  on  a  promontory  near  the  mouth  of  that  river,  where 
it  pours  its  rushing  waters  into  the  sea.  It  was  a  beautiful  and 
salubrious  spot,  and  the  missionaries  hailed  it  with  delight,  in 
exchange  for  unhealthy  and  unlovely  and  unsafe  Rangoon.  This 
town  was  named  Amherst,  in  honor  of  the  Governor  General  of 
India.  Here  Mrs.  JUDSON  was  buried,  and  here  also  the  little 
girl  who  was  nursed  in  the  prison  precincts  of  Oung-pen-la ;  and 


NOTES.         •  135 

here  they  expected  to  abide  in  prosperous  mission-work.  But  an 
unfortunate  disagreement  between  the  Civil  Commissioner  and 
the  Commander-in-chief  of  the  victorious  army  defeated  this  plan. 
General  Campbell  preferred  altogether  the  site  of  Maulmain,  then 
a  small  town  but  about  twenty-five  miles  farther  north  than  Am- 
herst,  and  nigher  the  wide  mouth  of  the  Salwen.  The  Com 
mander  considered  it  a  more  strategical  point  than  Amherst,  and 
this  decided  the  fate  of  the  latter  place.  It  was  a  hard  thing 
for  the  Teacher  to  leave  his  graves  under  the  Hopia ;  but  at  Maul- 
main  the  army  was  posted,  and.  thither  the  people  were  flocking 
from  Amherst,  and  also  from  the  dominions  of  the  tyrannic  King 
of  Ava.  It  was  thus  that  Maulmain  became  the  capital  of  Tenas- 
serim,  the  great  site  of  the  American  Baptist  Mission  in  Burma, 
and  the  home  of  the  beloved  JUDSONS  for  more  than  a  score  of 
years. 


NOTE  50,  p.  64. 
"  An  old  disciple  thus  had  shown  his  love" 

It  afterward  transpired  that  this  beautiful  act  had  been  done  by 
an  aged  deacon  of  the  Maulmain  church,  Ko  Dwah,  who  was  de 
votedly  attached  to  the  Teacher.  Ko  En  communicated  this  fact 
to  Mrs.  SARAH  B.  JUDSON.  Both  Ko  Dwah  and  the  beloved 
Teacher  were  taken  sick  at  nearly  the  same  time  ;  and  when  Dr. 
JUDSON  was  carried  to  the  boat  by  the  disciples,  the  aged  man  was 
not  able  to  accompany  them,  so  they  met  no  more  on  earth 
after  a  single  interview  during  their  illness.  When  the  old  dea 
con  learned  that  the  Teacher  had  departed,  and  his  house  had 
been  torn  down  as  unhealthy,  he  hobbled  out  of  his  dwelling  to 
see  the  ruin,  and  mounting  the  chapel  steps  with  great  pain,  he 
bowed  his  face  on  his  hands  and  uttered  a  wailing  funereal  cry. 
He  did  not  long  survive  the  shock  to  both  mind  and  body. 


136  NOTES. 


NOTE  51,  p.  65. 

"  He  from  the  spell  to  brighter  zeal  awoke, 
Forgot  the  open  grave  until  he  died" 

"  He  had  suffered  much,"  says  Dr.  Wayland,  in  his  Memoir, 
"  from  a  peculiar  form  of  dread  of  death,  —  not  the  separation 
of  the  soul  from  the  body,  or  any  doubt,  of  ultimate  acceptance 
with  God ;  but  a  nervous  shrinking  from  decay  and  corruption, 
the  mildewing  and  mouldering  in  dark,  damp,  silent  ghastliness. 
He  believed  this  to  be  the  result  of  pride  and  self-love,  and  in 
order  to  mortify  and  subdue  it,  he  had  a  grave  dug,  and  would  sit  by 
the  verge  of  it,  and  look  into  it,  imagining  how  each  feature  and 
limb  would  appear,  days,  months,  and  years  after  he  had  lain 
there." 


NOTE  52,  p.  66. 

"  There  Ko-thah-byu  the  one  Great  Teacher  found, 
And  to  his  countrymen  the  Christ  made  known." 

There  is,  perhaps,  in  all  the  records  of  conversions  in  Burma, 
no  single  one  of  greater  interest  than  that  of  the  poor  Karen 
bondman,  Ko-thah-byu.  He  accepted  the  gospel  when  it  was 
proclaimed  to  him,  with  eagerness  and  joy,  and  speedily  commu 
nicated  its  glad  tidings  to  some  of  his  wild  countrymen,  bringing 
them,  as  he  had  opportunity,  to  the  Christian  teachers.  When  he 
had  received  baptism,  in  1828,  he  became  at  once  a  missionary, 
and  earned,  by  his  devotion  and  zeal  in  seeking  the  conversion  of 
his  brethren,  the  title  of  the  Apostle  of  the  Karens.  This  people 
had  at  first  no  written  language  ;  and  when  their  rude  dialect  was 
reduced  to  form  and  writing  by  the  missionaries,  they  soon  ap 
preciated  the  benefit  conferred  upon  them.  From  their  traditions 
they  were  looking  for  sacred  teachers,  and  were  thus  inclined  to 


NOTES.  137 

listen  eagerly  to  Ko-thah-byu  and  to  the  white  teachers.  The 
beloved  Boardman  and  his  faithful  wife  welcomed  many  of  them 
to  Christ  in  their  own  rude  villages,  and  also  at  Tavoy.  As  an 
illustration  of  the  spread  of  the  Gospel  among  these  simple  but 
sincere  people,  and  also  of  the  relation  of  Ko-thah-byu  to  the 
grand  result,  it  may  be  stated  here  that  in  1878  the  jubilee  of 
his  baptism  was  celebrated  in  Tavoy  by  the  dedication  of  a  Me 
morial  Hall  built  by  Karen  Christians  at  a  cost  of  nearly  thirty 
thousand  rupees.  It  represented  more  than  as  many  Karens 
converted  during  the  previous  fifty  years  ! 


NOTE  53,  p.  67. 

"  Like  twinkling  stars  before  the  ampler  room, 
The  risen  sun  shall,  at  God's  noon-time,  bless." 

The  success  of  the  mission-work  among  the  wild  mountain 
tribes  of  Burma,  though  remarkable  during  the  life  of  JUDSON 
and  his  co-laborers,  —  especially  the  beloved  Boardmans,  —  has 
been  so  signal  of  later  years  that  it  is  almost  as  if  "  God's  noon 
time  "  for  that  remarkable  people  was  close  at  hand.  The  sun  of 
righteousness  is  indeed  pouring  its  splendid  radiance  into  the 
valleys,  over  the  wooded  hills,  and  along  the  sparkling  and  flash 
ing  rivers,  where  these  simple-hearted  tribes  are  found.  The 
statistics  of  the  present  time  are  exhilarating  and  assuring  to 
the  faith  of  every  Christian  soul.  There  are  now  nearly  fifty 
missionaries,  men  and  women ;  four  hundred  and  sixty  native 
preachers,  one  fifth  of  whom  are  ordained ;  about  five  hundred 
churches ;  and  over  twenty-six  thousand  members,  of  whom  nearly 
two  thousand  were  baptized  during  1887.  It  is  questionable 
if  this  gospel  success  is  exceeded  upon  any  mission-field  in  all 
India ;  and  if  equalled  by  the  Telugu  Mission,  it  is  certainly  not 
by  any  other. 


138  NOTES. 

NOTE  54,  p.  69. 
"As  bricks,  aforetime,  without  straw  were  made." 

See  Exodus,  v.  7,  8.  The  stubble  which  the  captives  were  com 
pelled  to  gather  for  themselves  was  so  poor  a  substitute  for  the 
straw  denied  them,  that  the  negation  of  the  verse  is  at  least 
constructively  justified. 

NOTE  55,  p.  72. 

"  Rich  sunset  glories  gilded  old  Frame's  pride, 
Her  god  Shway-San-dau  gleaming  on  their  boat" 

The  magnificent  pagoda  Shway-San-dau  was  to  Prome  what  the 
Shway-Da-gong  is  to  Rangoon,  and  the  Kyaik  Thanlan  to  Maul- 
main.  The  picture  of  Shway-Da-gong  accompanying  this  poem 
will  serve  for  a  type  of  all  these  pagodas,  —  splendid,  if  sometimes 
chiefly  with  gilding,  and  tinsel.  The  prediction  of  the  downfall 
of  the  great  glittering  Prome  idol,  so  touchingly  uttered  by  Dr. 
JUDSON,  is  already  coming  to  pass,  and  the  fading  glories  of 
Shway-San-dau  will  hardly  be  renewed. 

NOTE  56,  p.  74. 
"Besides  the  Gospels  and  the  '  Scrippet'  leaves." 

Dr.  JUDSON  was  wont  to  speak  half  playfully  and  half  impatiently 
of  the  abundant  single  pages  issued  from  the  Maulmain  press, 
which  he  called  "  Scrippets,"  and  was  loath  to  give  to  inquirers  in 
the  stead  of  larger  tracts  and  whole  gospels,  —  too  seldom,  he  felt, 
at  his  command  for  distribution. 


NOTES.  139 


NOTE  57,  p.  78. 

"  Karens,  Taligns,  and  Burmans  to  the  Cross 
from  Buddhist  idols  and  pagodas  turn." 

The  Taligns,  only  here  thus  named  in  the  poem,  are  the  Pegu-ans, 
who  have  a  dialect  of  their  own,  which  has  been  in  business  affairs 
superseded  by  the  Burman,  and  is  therefore  now  of  little  account. 
They  are,  however,  a  numerous  people,  and  have  become  of  great 
interest  to  the  missionaries,  whose  recent  successes  among  them 
are  very  remarkable  and  encouraging. 


NOTE  58,  p.  80. 
"  He  let  occasion  slip,  and  felt  the  loss." 

He  himself  realized  that  he  had  made  a  mistake  in  limiting  his 
previous  voyages  to  short  excursions  along  the  coast,  or  even  to 
Bengal ;  since  he  assured  himself,  and  was  indeed  advised,  that  the 
air  of  the  open  sea,  breathed  for  weeks,  would  probably  work  a 
beneficial  result  in  his  case. 

NOTE  59,  p.  81. 
"  The  Ramsey  —  Captain  HAMLIN,  in  these  lines." 

The  piety  and  generosity  of  this  noble  man,  as  exemplified  in 
the  voyage  to  which  the  text  refers,  demand  this  note.  His  ship 
was  really  a  Bethel,  and  some  of  the  officers  and  sailors  were 
hopefully  converted.  At  the  close  of  the  long  voyage  hfe  not  only 
refused  to  receive  the  passage-money  due  him,  but  he  returned 
four  hundred  rupees  which  Dr.  JUDSON  sent  him  after  his  refusal 
to  make  a  charge  which  might  justly  have  been  three  or  four 
times  that  sum.  His  kindness  was  acknowledged  by  the  Board  in 
a  resolution  of  thanks  sent  to  him,  with  valuable  religious  books. 


140  NOTES. 


NOTE  60,  p.  82. 
"As  mourned  the  elders  on  Paul's  parting  day" 

The  Apostle  of  the  Gentiles,  on  one  of  his  missionary  tours, 
landed  at  Miletus ;  and,  pressed  for  time,  resolving  to  sail  by 
Ephesus,  he  sent  thither  for  the  elders  of  the  church  there  to 
meet  him  at  Miletus.  The  narrative  of  their  visit  and  the  Apos 
tle's  touching  address  to  them  are  detailed  in  the  latter  half  of  the 
twentieth  chapter  of  The  Acts.  The  concluding  verses  read  thus  : 

"  And  when  he  had  thus  spoken,  he  kneeled  down  and  prayed 
with  them  all. 

"  And  they  all  wept  sore,  and  fell  on  Paul's  neck  and  kissed 
him ; 

"  Sorrowing  most  of  all  for  the  words  which  he  spake,  that  they 
should  see  his  face  no  more." 

NOTE  61,  p.  83. 
"  The  English-Burmese  -with  consummate  care" 

The  second  part  of  the  great  Burmese  Lexicon  —  the  Burmese- 
English —  which  Dr.  JUDSON  began,  and  for  which  he  prepared 
much  material,  he  did  not  live  to  finish.  A  few  days  bef9re  his 
death  he  requested  that  his  manuscripts  relating  to  it  should  be 
transmitted  to  his  friend  and  associate  Mr.  Stevens,  by  whose 
hands  the  noble  work  was  carried  to  completion.  It  remains 
a  monument  of  industry  and  learning  not  exceeded  in  mission 
annals. 

NOTE  62,  p.  86. 

"  Which  flowed  in  song  of  blended  hopes  and  fears, 
Of  her  sweet,  sainted  self  our  monument." 

The  readers  of  this  poem  to  whom  the  song  here  referred  to  is 
familiar  would  doubtless  wonder  if  it  were  not  included  with  the 


NOTES.  141 

"  Notes  ;  "  and  to  those  who  have  not  met  with  it  in  their  reading, 
it  cannot  fail  to  give  a  new  pleasure.  Its  presentation,  therefore, 
at  this  point  needs  no  apology.  It  beautifully  exemplifies  the 
tender  spirit  and  the  fine  poetic  taste  of  the  noble  Christian 
woman  from  whose  heart  it  sprung. 


A  PARTING  SONG. 

We  part  on  this  green  islet,  Love,  — 

Thou  for  the  Eastern  main, 
I  for  the  setting  sun,  Love,  — 

Oh,  when  to  meet  again  F 

My  heart  is  sad  for  thee,  Love, 

For  lone  thy  way  will  be; 
And  oft  thy  tears  will  fall,  Love, 

For  thy  children  and  for  me. . 

The  music  of  thy  daughter's  voice 
Thou  'It  miss  for  many  a  year ; 

And  the  merry  shout  of  thine  elder  boys 
Thou  'It  list  in  vain  to  hear. 

When  we  knelt  to  see  our  Henry  die, 
And  heard  his  last  faint  moan, 

Each  wiped  the  tear  from  other's  eye ; 
Now,  each  must  weep  alone. 

My  tears  fall  fast  for  thee,  Love  ; 

How  can  I  say  —  farewell  ? 
But  go,  —thy  God  be  with  thee,  Love, 

Thy  heart's  deep  grief  to  quell  1 

Yet  my  spirit  clings  to  thine,  Love, 

Thy  soul  remains  with  me  ; 
And  oft  we  '11  hold  communion  sweet, 

O  'er  the  dark  and  distant  sea. 


142  A'OTES. 

And  who  can  paint  our  mutual  joy, 

When,  all  our  wanderings  o'er, 
We  both  shall  clasp  our  infants  three, 
t       At  home,  on  Burma's  shore  ? 

But  higher  shall  our  raptures  glow 

On  yon  celestial  plain, 
When  the  loved  and  parted  here  below 

Meet,  ne'er  to  part  again. 

Then  gird  thine  armor  on,  Love, 
Nor  faint  thou  by  the  way, 

Till  Buddh  shall  fall,  and  Burma's  sons 
Shall  own  Messiah's  sway. 


NOTE  63,  p.  87. 

"  They  dug  her  grave  in  Earth's  strong  bosom  deep, 
Beside  another  saint's —  both  far  from  home." 

The  reference  here  is  to  Mrs.  Chater,  who  was  for  a  number  of 
years  a  faithful  and  honored  English  tnissionary  at  Ceylon,  and 
who  died  at  St.  Helena  while  on  her  homeward  voyage  for  the 
restoration  of  her  health.  The  funeral  services  at  the  burial  of 
Mrs.  JUDSON  were  impressive,  and  accompanied  by  such  touching 
manifestations  of  Christian  sympathy  and  generosity  as  deeply 
affected  the  heart  of  the  bereaved  and  afflicted  "Apostle  of 
Burma,"  who  was  obliged  to  resume  his  voyage  on  the  evening 
of  the  burial  day. 

NOTE  64,  p.  90. 
"  He  found  her,  and  her  heart  was  moved  for  him" 

The  story  of  the  third  Mrs.  JUDSON'S  life  has  been  very  graphi 
cally  told  by  Professor  A.  C.  KENDRICK,  to  which  the  interested 
reader  is  referred.  Dr.  JUDSON'S  meeting  with  her  was  at  the 


NOTES.  143 

house  of  a  mutual  friend  ;  and  when  in  conversation  with  her,  the 
great 'missionary  half  chided  her  for  the  lightness  of  her  literary 
productions  as  "  Fanny  Forrester,"  she  so  artlessly  and  effectually 
vindicated  herself  that  the  Doctor  challenged  her  to  try  her  pen 
on  a  memoir  of  the  beloved  wife  he  had  buried  at  St.  Helena. 
She  consented,  and  to  her  interest  in  the  task  she  undertook,  she 
added  an  interest  in  the  distinguished  man  who  thus  employed 
her.  The  sequel  is  known  to  our  readers,  and  if  at  the  time  of 
their  marriage  the  religious  world  and  the  social  world  murmured 
alike,  the  former  at  least  is  not  only  satisfied,  but  grateful  to  God 
for  the  Providence  which  brought  them  together,  realizing,  to  her, 
a  half-unwelcome  presentiment  that  she  should  one  day  be  a 
missionary  to  the  heathen,  and  becoming  to  him  a  most  admirable 
successor  of  two  such  wives  as  were  ANN  HASSELTINE  and 
SARAH  BOARDMAN.  Her  missionary  memorials  are  touching 
and  tender ;  and  her  service  to  the  Apostle  of  Burma,  during  the 
four  years  for  which  they  continued,  are  cherished  in  all  Chris 
tian  hearts.  Her  own  death,  four  years  later,  was  deeply  lamented, 
It  occurred  at  Hamilton,  N.  Y.,  June  i,  1854,  eight  years  and 
one  day  after  her  romantic  but  heaven-hallowed  marriage.  Her 
daughter  survives  her,  and  is  now  the  honored  wife  of  the  Rev. 
W.  T.  C.  Hanna  of  Ballston,  N.  Y. 


NOTE  65,  p.  91. 
"  Five  varied  places  of  his  dead  he  told" 

These  were  as  follows  :  — 

1.  At  Rangoon,  his  infant  son  ROGER  WILLIAMS. 

2.  At   Amherst,  Mrs.    ANN   H.   JUDSON   and   her   dear   little 

"  MARIA,"  under  the  Hopia-tree. 

3.  At  Serampore,  his  son  HENRY. 

4.  At  Maulmain,  two  children. 

5.  At  St.  Helena,  Mrs.  SARAH  B.  JUDSON. 


144  NOTES. 

NOTE  66,  p.  95. 
"  The  sudden  doom  of  loss  by  fire  had  shared." 

In  the  midst  of  their  untoward  and  distressing  experiences  at 
Rangoon,  they  received  intelligence  of  the  burning  of  a  house  in 
Maulmain  in  which  they  had  stored  their  best  wardrobe  and 
most  valuable  effects,  including  especially  some  important  manu 
scripts  and  many  cherished  presents  from  lost  friends.  It  was 
felt  as  a  great  calamity,  but  their  Christian  faith  and  trust  in  God 
enabled  them  to  bear  it  with  serene  if  yet  sorrowful  patience. 

Dr.  JUDSON,  writing  to  another  missionary,  —  Rev.  E.  A. 
Stevens,  a  sharer  in  the  great  loss,  and  at  the  time  of  the  fire 
dwelling  in  the  burned  house,  —  says  :  "  '  The  Lord  gave,  and  the 
Lord  hath  taken  away  :  blessed  be  the  name  of  the  Lord.'  My  heart 
overflows  with  gratitude,  and  my  eyes  with  tears,  as  I  write  these 
precious  inspired  words.  There  are  some  other  lines,  quaint  in 
garb  but  rich  in  core,  that  are  worth  more  than  all  your  house 
and  contents :  — 

'  Blessed  be  God  for  all, 

For  all  things  here  below ; 

For  every  loss  and  every  cross 

To  my  advantage  grow.' 

"  But  I  sympathize  with  you  and  dear  Sister  Stevens.  Brother 
Bullard  has  also  sustained  a  heavy  loss.  Brother  Brayton's  will 
not,  on  the  whole,  be  any  great  loss.  As  to  me  —  the  leeks  and 
onions  that  were  packed  up  in  those  two  valuable  boxes  —  worth 
about  seven  or  eight  hundred  rupees — were  very  bright  to  the 
eye  and  soft  to  the  feel ;  and  many  of  them  we  shall  greatly  need, 
if  we  live  a  year  or  two  longer ;  but  they  have  gone  to  dust  and 
ashes,  where  I  have  seen  many  bright,  dear  eyes  go,  to  rescue 
any  pair  of  which  I  would  have  given  those  boxes  ten  times 
over." 


NOTES.  145 

NOTE  67,  p.  96. 
"  Its  music  round  the  listening  world  was  heard." 

It  is  safe  to  say  that,  dainty  and  delicate  as  were  many  of  the 
poetical  effusions  of  "  Fanny  Forrester,"  none  of  them  surpassed, 
if  indeed  they  equalled,  the  poem  with  which,  as  EMILY  C.  JUDSON, 
she  greeted  the  birth  of  her  babe  at  Maulmain,  and  which  we 
cannot  here  withhold  from  the  reader :  — 

MY  BIRD. 

Ere  last  year's  moon  had  left  the  sky 

A  birdling  sought  my  Indian  nest, 
And  folded,  oh,  so  lovingly  ! 

Her  tiny  wings  upon  my  breast. 

From  morn  till  evening's  purple  tinge 

In  winsome  helplessness  she  lies  ; 
Two  rose-leaves,  with  a  silken  fringe, 

Shut  softly  on  her  starry  eyes. 

There  's  not  in  Ind  a  lovelier  bird  ; 

Broad  earth  owns  not  a  happier  nest ; 
O  God,  Thou  hast  a  fountain  stirred, 

Whose  waters  never  more  shall  rest  I 

This  beautiful,  mysterious  thing, 
This  seeming  visitant  from  heaven,  — 

This  bird  with  the  immortal  wing, 
To  me,  —  to  me,  Thy  hand  hath  given. 

The  pulse  first  caught  .its  tiny  stroke, 
The  blood  its  crimson  hue,  from  mine ; 

This  life,  which  I  have  dared  invoke, 
Henceforth  is  parallel  with  Thine. 


146  JVOTES. 

A  silent  awe  isin  my  room ; 

I  tremble  with  delicious  fear ; 
The  future  with  its  light  and  gloom  — 

Time  and  Eternity  —  are  here. 

Doubts,  hopes,  in  eager  tumult  rise  ; 

Hear,  O  my  God !  one  earnest  prayer, 
Room  for  my  bird  in  Paradise, 

And  give  her  angel-plumage  there  I 


NOTE  68,  p.  98. 
"  At  Maulmain  lay,  impatient  for  the  sea" 

This  note  refers  only  to  the  name  of  the  city  where  lay  the 
French  ship,  Aristide  Marie.  It  is  probably  known  to  the  reader 
that  the  British  Government  has  now  established  the  spelling  of 
that  city's  name  as  Moulmein,  instead  of  Maulmain,  as  it  appears 
all  through  the  poem.  We  deemed  it  proper  to  preserve  the  old 
orthography,  as  not  only  familiar  to  all  readers  of  the  Burmese 
mission  records  and  memoirs,  but  especially  as  that  which  alone 
was  known  to  Dr.  JUDSON.  Our  associations  with  it,  for  his  sake, 
endear  the  old-time  spelling. 

NOTE  69,  p.  99. 

" '  Care  for  poor  mistress  ;  '  and  the  loving  breath. 
With  the  sweet  utterance  left  the  wasted  lungs."  < 

This  tender  injunction  was  addressed  to  his  devoted  and  faith 
ful  servant,  whose  assiduous  ministries,  together  with  the  sym 
pathies  of  a  brother  missionary,  served  to  soothe  the  anguish  of 
his  last  hours.  "His  death,"  says  Mr.  Ranney,  "was  like  falling 
asleep." 


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